


Exile

by harrypanther



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Betrayal, F/M, M/M, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 07:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 46
Words: 130,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7213393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrypanther/pseuds/harrypanther
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exiled from Berk for treason, Hiccup is handed over to Outcast Island and the mercies of Dagur and Savage. While his friends work to prove his innocence, can Hiccup survive in the clutches of his enemies? And will he ever be accepted back into his tribe even if he does? Set during D:DoB</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Suspicion

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: How to Train Your Dragon remains the property of Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks. This is set during Dragons: Defenders of Berk, after 'View to a Skrill'.

Word went round the village of Berk like a tornado: someone had tried to kill the Chief. A dragon had fired at him out of the dark, the impact tossing him down the long flight of stairs of the great Hall and knocking all but unconscious. When he came to, all he found was the scorch mark that had missed him by a whisker. Gobber had been outraged and had called the Elders and the Academy but Hiccup had been worried. His father was the only constant in his life and was respected by the whole village. The thought that anyone would try to kill him was unthinkeable. Stoick had pushed his anxious son away, turning back to reassure his people that he was still strong and in control.

"I'm fine!" He announced. "It takes more than a little knock to finish me!" The roar of approval had run through the village and the Elders had stood behind him in a show of solidarity. But Hiccup had remained concerned and called Fishlegs to examine at the burn mark with him. He peered at the burn and frowned. Fishlegs was also puzzled. He gave a nervous little laugh.

"It looks like a Night Fury burn!" he said with a twitch. Hiccup frowned.

"That's not possible!" he said in a thoughtful voice. "Toothless is the only Night Fury and he was with me. We were working at the forge. It must have been another dragon, maybe one the Outcasts' ones…" Fishlegs gave another nervous laugh.

"But it really does look like Toothless's burn!" he repeated loud enough for the bystanders to hear. He gave a hysterical little laugh and hastily added "Maybe there is another one!" But Hiccup shook his head: his dragon would have known if there had been another of his kind around. In fact he would have known if there had been any unknown dragon around-and he had remained calm and relaxed throughout the evening. So he turned away, shaking his head.

"Not helping," he said in a low voice. He examined the scene twice more with Fishlegs but they found nothing extra so boy and dragon walked up the hill. Stoick was still speaking with the senior warriors and the boy felt abandoned. He really wanted his father at home with him, to speak to him and know he was safe. They had suffered a poor relationship for many years and now they were finally growing closer, Hiccup was terrified he would lose his father. Of course, he could never tell Stoick, for the burly Chief would laugh at his fishbone son, clap him on the back so firmly he would fall over and tell him that death was an occupational hazard. He rubbed his face wearily. Death was an occupational hazard for a Dragon Rider too, but Stoick babied him when he was worried about Hiccup and the boy wanted to return the favour. So he sat quietly by the fire with Toothless curled by him until Stoick returned home.

"I don't understand, bud," he murmured, stroking Toothless's head to calm himself. "There was no other Night Fury. And you didn't sense any other dragon-not even a feral one! So who...?" Toothless crooned softly and nuzzled hard against the boy. "I'd say Alvin but I know he's dead...and Dagur would send one of his men to kill Dad rather than a dragon..." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Is there someone else out there who did this? Someone I haven't met? Someone here on Berk? Oh, it's so messed up..."

"That's for sure!" Stoick said, entering with s wan smile, his heavy tread tired.

The boy looked up as he walked in and jumped to his feet, running to his father and grasping his hand tightly.

"Dad-are you alright?" he asked worriedly. His father patted his head then pulled his helmet off and sat heavily in his chair. Hiccup scooted off and brought him a beer before staring into his face. "I was worried," he admitted, his voice ashamed. He knew that his father would not approve of his worry but Hiccup couldn't help it. Stoick gave him a smile.

"I'm fine, son!" he assured Hiccup as he stared into the fire. "But we need to find out who attacked me. We can't have someone walking around planning this kind of thing!" Hiccup nodded worriedly. He stared at the fire for a long moment.

"But who would want to?" Hiccup asked him quietly. "You're the best Chief in Berk's history. You are respected all over the Archipelago. No one can match you in battle!"

"None of which would stop a sneak attack," Stoick told him. "And I have garnered enough enemies over the years. Even here, there are some who consistently grumble or complain about my leadership. Not everyone approves of the dragons, son!"

"Mildew!" Hiccup's tone was hard: he still couldn't forgive the old man for all the harms he had done to the boy.

"Hiccup-he wasn't the only one," Stoick told his son. "Vikings are not good at change. And they are swift to anger and jump to conclusions..." Hiccup awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. That last part worried him more than anything.

"Dad-did you hear what Fishlegs said?" he asked worriedly. Stoick nodded.

"Son-we all did!" he admitted heavily.

"You don't think that I or Toothless would try to hurt you?" he asked in an anxious tone. Stoick smiled at his son.

"No," he assured the scrawny boy sitting before him, the Night Fury parked neatly at his back.

"But Fishlegs was right-it does look like one of Toothless's plasma blasts," he said thoughtfully. "I need to find out what dragon made it and why?" Stoick grasped his shoulder.

"Don't be concerned, son," he assured the boy. "I could never believe that you would do anything like this! And I know you will get to the bottom of this!"

But that night, he was groaning and growling in pain. His gut was gripped by spasms and he felt cold and sweaty. Roused by his distress, Hiccup came down to find him and realised his Dad was ill. He tried giving him more to drink but when Stoick doubled up, the boy frantically went in search of Gobber-not always a safe option but one he managed mostly unscathed. The blacksmith took one glance at at the white and pain-wracked Chief and went straight to Gothi, the village elder. She was grumpy but came immediately and her sharp features fell as she saw the Chief. Hiccup watched her in fear as she examined his father. Then she scratched some runes on the floor and Gobber raced out to fetch some herbs. The boy watched from the stairs as she brewed a drink and fed it to his father. The man gave a groan and collapsed onto his tumbled bed, his groans quietening. Then Gothi stared around the room and sniffed various items, then picked up the mug of beer that Hiccup had given his father. She sniffed and her brows dipped. She held it up to Gobber.

"That?" Gobber asked. Hiccup stared at him in shock.

"What is it?" he asked .

"He's been poisoned!" Gobber told him. Hiccup felt his heart grow cold.

"P-poisoned?" he stammered. "How-how?" The blacksmith held up the mug.

"His drink!" he announced. Hiccup felt his jaw drop open and he backed away a step.

"No..." he murmured. "No…You can't think…I wouldn't…Gobber…please…" He tried to get to his father but Gobber held him back.

"Let him sleep, Hiccup," he said. "I'll watch over him..." Hiccup stared up at him with a hurt expression.

"He's my Dad!" he protested gently.

"It's for the best, lad," he assured the boy. Staring at him and reading suspicion in his eyes, Hiccup turned away. He was feeling sick, not just because of his father's sudden illness but because Gobber was acting as if he was responsible. He slowly walked up to his room and sat on the bed, staring at Toothless.

"It's OK, bud," he murmured as the dragon nuzzled against him. It could tell the boy was distraught. He stared at the stairs down to his father. "But they couldn't believe I would harm him?" he murmured, disbelieving. The dragon crooned slightly and Hiccup hugged him gently. "I don't know," he whispered. "Gobber's known me since I was born. He made my diapers! He's been my boss for ever. He stood by me when I was Useless and despised by everyone else. How can-can he believe this?"

But there was no answer, no comfort available from the worried dragon and the boy felt his entire body shiver with foreboding. He couldn't sleep a wink and spent all night, listening for his father's breathing.

The next morning, Stoick was feeling better and he smiled at his son as Hiccup ran down the stairs to check on him. The Chief stretched his hand out to his son and Hiccup pushed past Gobber and flung himself into his father's arms. His face was relieved. "Dad," he said gratefully. "How are you?" Stoick gave a smile.

"It felt like Thor was flinging his thunderbolts in my guts!" he told his son. Hiccup shook his head desperately.

"They said you were poisoned," he said quickly. "Dad, I..." Stoick grasped his shoulders tightly.

"I do not believe that you tried to hurt me," he said gently. "Someone must have poisoned the barrel..." Hiccup found himself breathing hard in shock.

"Why?" he murmured, disbelieving. Stoick gave a grim smile.

"I guess they want a new Chief," he said simply.

Hiccup headed for the Academy and faced his friends. They were all there and he looked pale and haggard as he arrived. He tried a smile.

"Hey, guys!" he said.

"Wow-he looks even worse than the Chief!" Tuff exclaimed.

"How is your father?" Astrid asked him, ignoring the male twin. He shrugged.

"He's going to be fine," he said in a relieved voice. Then he sagged. "He was poisoned as well! Someone put something in his beer." Astrid stared at him.

"Hiccup!" she said anxiously. "Only you live with Stoick."

"I know," he said in a very anxious voice. "My Dad doesn't believe I would hurt him but Gobber..." He couldn't finish the sentence and the hurt in his eyes was obvious. He gave little brave smile. "C'mon, guys- we need to get training." But the riders kept stopping to discuss the attempts on Stoick and who could profit from his death. And every time Hiccup heard the discussion, he felt himself cringe. Because he was the person with the most to gain from the loss of the Chief. Though they never recalled he also had the most to lose. He sat miserably at the side of the arena and watched the others doing their exercises, a sick feeling in his stomach. Toothless watched him with a gentle croon as the boy scuffed his heel back and forth on the floor. Astrid sat beside him.

"They don't mean anything," she told him. "No one believes that you would hurt your Dad!" Hiccup stared at the floor.

"Some people do," he said heavily. "I saw their faces as they walked up to see my Dad. They were looking at me..." His shoulders sagged. "This Berk after all. There are no secrets here-only copious gossip!"

"But Gothi has cured him now," Astrid said. Hiccup shrugged.

"But someone had tried to kill him twice and they may try again!" he said quietly. He managed a slight smile. "I think Gobber will be watching me like a hawk now!"

When he returned home, he was horribly aware of the eyes upon him. Word of the attempted poisoning had gone round the village and everyone stared at him as Toothless landed as if he was about to run screaming at his Dad with an axe. He slipped off and walked up to his house, turning to see the villagers glaring at him. Toothless walked to his side and he stroked the dragon gently. Then he pulled his shoulders back and walked into his home. As soon as he was in, he closed the door and leaned back against it, closing his eyes and breathing hard. The hostility had really shocked him and he stared into the room to see the house empty. He started forward in anxiety.

"Dad?" he called, staring into the gloom. The fire had died down and he fed the flames automatically then stared at the dragon. "Where is he?" he asked softly. Then he emerged again and threw himself into Toothless's saddle. "Find Dad, bud!" he said and grasped the saddle as they leapt into the air. Stoick was on his dragon and Hiccup was concerned that he could still be in danger. He hadn't found that strange dragon from last night! But as he circled round, he saw Stoick landing low down the village, hanging into his dragon for grim death. Hiccup soared round and landed a few yards from his Dad, who was stomping into the forge to see Gobber.

"My saddle broke!" he said angrily. "I thought you had fixed it!" Gobber looked up at him in mild surprise.

"I had," he said and then went out to inspect the saddle. Hiccup ran up his father.

"Dad!" he said. Stoick stared at him, his face still locked in anger. "What happened?" he asked the Chief. Stoick scowled at him,

"My saddle broke while I was riding, just as Thornado was turning!" Stoick told him, his tone angry. The Thunderdrum gave a little growl behind him, equally upset as Gobber crawled under him to inspect the damaged kit.

"But, Dad-what were you doing on Thornado?" Hiccup asked him, concerned. "I mean after last night. I wouldn't have thought you would be..."

"Up to flying? Your Chief is made of sterner stuff than that!" Stoick told him loudly.

"And my Dad?" he murmured. Stoick stared down at his son, still small, just reaching his chest and clearly concerned.

"You have nothing to worry about!" he told the boy gruffly.

"This saddle has been cut!" Gobber announced. He held up the saddle and demonstrated where the strap had given, a neat slice concealed low down under the saddle. "It was done by someone who knows where to hide the damage." Stoick stared at him in shock but he trusted Gobber implicitly.

"Who could have done such a thing?" he murmured as the Elders arrived, followed by half the village.

"Maybe we should give the obvious answer, the one that Stoick has been so unwilling to even consider!" Lars suggested. Stoick stared at him.

"What answer?" he demanded.

"Who gains most from your death? Who owns a Night Fury? Who lives at your home and has ample opportunity to poison your drink? Who knows more about dragon saddles than anyone except Gobber?"

"Me," Hiccup said in a faint voice. "He's saying I must have done this, Dad."


	2. Condemned

"Me," Hiccup said in a faint voice. "He's saying I must have tried to kill you, Dad."

Gobber glanced up and his expression gave Hiccup no comfort at all. Gobber had known him all his life and he looked more than half convinced. The others, clustered around, all looked totally convinced. Hiccup looked up into a sea of unfriendly and accusing faces, hard eyes inspecting the skinny boy and hands hovering over weapons.

"We at least should search the boy's room," Ulvang added the murmurs of approval of the others.

"And what will you find there?" Stoick asked heavily. "He has a knife: we all do. His dragon is obvious."

"Maybe poison?" Lars suggested. Hiccup felt his skin grow cold and he stared at the elders. This was an absolute nightmare, his world collapsing around him as he watched. Everything that happened seemed to make him look more guilty and he could guess what was going to happen now. Even though no sane poisoner would keep the evidence in his bedroom!

"Follow me!" Ulvang shouted and led the crowd of villagers back up to the Chief's house. Hiccup made to follow but Sven grabbed his arm.

"I think you should stay back!" he said. Hiccup struggled as his father and Gobber followed the crowd up the hill. Hiccup was held back as they poured into the house and began to tear his room apart:scattering his papers and diagrams, overturning his bed, turning out his cupboard and ripping through his notebook and the Bork papers. He winced and then he heard the sounds of murmuring. Sven was shouted and he found himself dragged up the stairs like a prisoner. He paused and stared at the chaos of his room.

It was worse than he had imagined and he glanced painfully at the Bork papers. They were scattered and he longed to pick them up and look after them. He cast a glance at Gobber, asking their former custodian to help him out but the man wouldn't meet his eye. Lars showed him something: a tiny ink bottle he had got off Trader Johan ages before. Hiccup knew it was empty-but Lars brandished it.

"This contains the poison!" he announced. Hiccup gaped.

"What? No!" he said. "That's not possible!" How could you know?

"And this details the attack," Ulvang added, showing his notebook. At the back was a diagram with notes showing the angle of attack for the Night Fury at the Great Hall. Hiccup felt lightheaded with shock. Then Stoick turned to face his son.

"These were found in your diagrams," he said in a grim voice. Hiccup stared at them, scared to even wonder what else they had found. The evidence wes letters from Dagur the Deranged, the Chief of the Berserkers to Hiccup, discussing how Hiccup could kill his father as Dagur had killed his own father, Oswald the Agreeable. Hiccup had always had the unenviable job of keeping Dagur busy during Treaty talks and the boy had suffered a really miserable time at the hands of the deranged Berserker. If anyone, for one moment, thought being almost drowned or used for knife target practice made him Dagur's friend, they were more deranged than the Berserker! Hiccup stared, wordless. "Son..." The tone was absolutely flat and Hiccup realised his father believed the evidence he had found. He knew his father had despaired and despised him for years but he thought his Dad had finally seen what kind of person Hiccup was. Yet now, he seemed far too willing to believe that his son would plot his death. He found his throat was almost too thick to speak.

"Dad-please..." he breathed hoarsely. "I-I would never..."

"Then how do you explain these?" Stoick asked, displaying the letters. Hiccup was shaking his head in disbelief.

"Dagur hates me!" Hiccup told him desperately. "On Dragon Island, he tried to kill me!"

"Which no one witnessed!" Lars added. "Just your word, if I understand. But what it looks like now is that you threw your lot in with the Berserkers. What did he promise you, lad? A treaty? Rule of Berk? And all for the price of killing Stoick?" Hiccup was shaking his head.

"No," he breathed.

"Son, why couldn't you speak to me?" Stoick asked in a pained voice. Hiccup shook his head and buried his face in his hands.

"This isn't true," he whispered. "Dad, I would never hurt you. You know me! I am your son."

"Dagur was Oswald's son," Gobber put in.

"Not helping!" Hiccup told him desperately. "Please, Dad- this is some kind of mistake..."

"Yes-and I made it," Stoick said in a grim voice. Hiccup ran forward and took his hand in a last, desperate plea. But Stoick shook him off and recoiled from his touch. Hiccup froze, his face absolutely stricken. He felt he could barely breathe and sobs were shuddering through him. Every set of eyes was condemning him now. He stared up into his father's face and saw that he had been convinced. Stoick almost looked through him and he tried to turn but Sven and Lars grabbed his arms. They looked up to the Chief.

"Put him in the jail," Stoick said quietly. "I will pass the sentence later."

"Dad-I didn't do this!" Hiccup managed to choke out. "Please-you have to believe me!" The Chief looked at him coldly.

"As of now, you are not my son!" he announced coldly. "Gobber, get the saddle from Toothless. I don't want him flying away before he can face the penalty for his crimes!"

"But I'm innocent!" Hiccup protested, his face ashen. He struggled as he was dragged away and lifted off the floor. Stoick reeled slightly and blinked hard, once, as he heard the boy taken away, still protesting his innocence.

"I'll pass sentence at sunset," he announced. "Gather the village."

oOo

Hiccup was thrown into the cell and stumbled then collapsed to his knees. He heard the door slam and he slowly clambered to his feet, though his legs felt shaky and he felt numb. It was like some horrible nightmare and he collapsed onto the bed on the cell, throwing his arm across his face in despair. He was truly shocked at what had happened. The 'evidence' found in his room was bad enough but the fact that everyone including his Dad had just accepted the fact that he was guilty had wounded him more than he could say. He couldn't explain how the letters were in his room but he knew that someone had done a fine job in framing him. But his certain knowledge that he was innocent meant nothing because he would be sentenced for treason.

He sat still, hunched in the cold cell and staring at the floor. He would never hurt his father and he had no desire to be Chief. But clearly someone else wanted the job. And he had been separated from Toothless. The dragon could not fly without a rider and Stoick did not want Hiccup escaping on his dragon. With a silent nod to his father's tactical sense, Hiccup bowed his head and buried his face in his hands. If this played out as he guessed, he would never see Toothless-or Berk-again.

He was still sitting there, bowed and hopeless, as they brought his visitors in.

"Hiccup?" It was Astrid, her tone worried. He lifted his head and saw all the other riders through the bars.

"Hey, guys," he said with a wan smile. He rose and walked slowly over to them.

"Is it true?" Astrid asked him urgently. He shrugged.

"Yeah," he said. "They all think I tried to kill my Dad. They found things in my room that they think prove my guilt." He leaned forward. "I didn't do it, Astrid. Please, you have to believe me!" His tone was desperate, his green eyes wide and pleading. She stared at him.

"But the letters from Dagur?" she asked him. He felt his shoulders sag in despair.

"They're not mine!" he protested quietly. "I'd never seen them before today! Dagur hates me, he tried to kill Toothless. And he wants to make my life miserable." He leaned his head against the bars and his voice was hoarse in desperation. "Gods, he spent so many days tormenting me when I was littler and I had to keep him from messing up the Treaty negotiations. I would never side with him against Berk!"

"Get away from the bars!" Ulli growled. He was a burly farmer who was doing duty in the jail and was outraged by the tales of the boy's treason. Hiccup glanced up, not understanding. The man walked forward and shoved the boy back, hard. Hiccup went flying and hit the ground with a bang. He lay still for a long moment then slowly began to sit up.

"Hey-that's not right!" Snotlout told him. Hiccup was the smallest and slightest of the teens and he had a metal leg, making him a little more unsteady on his feet, though he never let it stop him. The violent push was uncalled for. Hiccup lifted his head and slowly got to his feet.

"As I said, everyone believes it," he said quietly. "They have already made the decision, guys. I will be exiled. Toothless will not be allowed to fly. Can you..." His voice trailed off and he swallowed.

"I'll look after him," Astrid promised him. He nodded.

"Fishlegs, I had the Bork papers in my room," he said evenly. "Can you go fetch them and look after them? They were entrusted to me and to the Academy. I guess it will just be the Academy now..." He took a deep breath. "Astrid, I think they're going to send me to Outcast Island." She gasped at his desperate tone.

"But..." She couldn't finish but Snotlout had no problems.

"Where Dagur and Savage will be overjoyed to see you," he said sarcastically. "I bet they have a special cell waiting for you!"

"Thank you, Snotlout," Hiccup said dryly. He had been consciously avoiding thinking about that. "Look, guys-I know I am innocent. Which means that whoever tried to kill Dad is still out there. Keep a watch out. And for the Outcasts and Dagur. I won't give them any help, but I don't know what they will get anyway." He bowed his head. "Please, you have to believe that I would never hurt my Dad or Berk."

"We know," Snotlout said unexpectedly. "You spend all your time with the dragons. You never refuse if anyone asks for help. You do everything your Dad asks. You risk your and our lives to keep Berk safe. You defeated the Red Death and lost your leg in the process." He shrugged. "Look, it's obvious!" he said as they all stared at him in astonishment. "Doesn't mean I don't hate him, though," he added. Then he heard steps and Lars and Gobber arrived. The sun was westering and the light was fading.

"It's time," Gobber said as Ulli opened the door. Hiccup walked out and his arms were grasped as if he was already an Outcast. He stared up at them and then allowed himself to be marched away. The Riders followed.

The rest of the village was assembled in the Great Hall as he was brought in. The Elders were assembled with Stoick in their centre and Hiccup stared at his father with a terrible sensation of loss. He forced himself to breathe as he was hauled up in front of them.

"You have been found guilty of treason," Magnus announced. Stoick did not look at his son. "You have thrown your lot in with the Outcasts and enemies of Berk." Hiccup swallowed and shook his head. He was trembling all over. His guards stood back from him, leaving him alone, facing his Chief.

"It's not true," he said without hope.

"And you shame us by your deceit and cowardice!" Lars added. Hiccup stared at him.

"I'm telling the truth," he insisted. Then he stared at his father. "Dad, I never tried to hurt you. I never wrote to Dagur. I don't know what is happening but I am innocent. Please, please-you have to believe me!" His tone was imploring. Stoick finally looked down at him, his eyes cold and remote.

"Why did you betray me, Hiccup?" he asked his son. Hiccup shook his head.

"I-I didn't," he begged. "You know I am not a coward. You know I would never hurt you. Why won't you believe me?"

"There can only be one sentence for this crimes," Stoick announced in a gruff voice. He was feeling the pain of the situation as well. "You are not my son. You are no longer a Viking of Berk. You are an Outcast!" There were gasps and Hiccup heard Astrid's voice among them. But he felt his legs wobble and sobs shuddered through him. He felt a deep pain in his chest and he stared, dry eyed, at the Elders.

"Dad-no," he breathed. "Please. Please. I am innocent"

"Take him to the ships," Magnus announced. But as they grabbed his arms, he fought and stared up at Stoick.

"What about Toothless?" he asked. Stoick glanced at him.

"I am not handing the Outcasts a weapon," he announced. "He will not fly again, Hiccup. But he will be cared for. That I promise." Hiccup felt his throat thicken. He could not breathe.

"Let me see him," he breathed. But he was hauled out of the Hall and down to the harbour. He gave up struggling and allowed himself to be taken. He couldn't see the riders and a part of him was glad they weren't watching this but he missed saying goodbye to his friends. Then, as they reached the harbour, he saw them-with the familiar black shape sitting neatly between them. He began to really fight then, trying to pull away. "TOOTHLESS!" he cried.

He managed to squirm free and sprinted to the dragon. Toothless jumped up and ran to him and he flung himself onto the dragon. Desperately he clung to the dragon, embracing him and resting his head against the dragon's muzzle.

"I'm sorry, buddy," he murmured hoarsely. "This is all my fault." He heard the clicks of arrows being fitted to bows and he clung tighter to his dragon. They were afraid he would escape and were prepared to kill him and Toothless to prevent that happening. And they never understood he would never think like that. "They won't let you fly because of me. They think...they think..." His throat closed and tears rolled down his face. He buried his face against his dragon's as sobs shuddered through him. "You're my best friend and I'll never see you again!"

"Time to go!" Gobber told him. The blacksmith at least had the grace to look uncomfortable at the whole process and Hiccup gave Toothless one last, extra-hard hug. Then he pulled away. The dragon immediately got up to follow him as he always did and Hiccup felt the pain of that like a knife in his heart. He forced himself to turn and face the dragon.

"You gotta stay, bud," he said quietly, giving the signal. "I'll-I'll be fine..." He stroked the blunt muzzle one more time and then Astrid walked forward to stand by the uncomprehending dragon. He turned and was led into the boat. He glanced up and saw his father at the top of the cliffs. Seeing his son stare up at him, Stoick turned away. Crushed, Hiccup leaned against the prow of the boat, where he was being held and then they pushed away. He stared desolately at the dock and saw his home and his best friend recede into the distance and heard the last despairing roar of his dragon. Finally, he slumped to his knees and sat, huddled, until they finally reached Outcast waters.

They made sure they arrived in full view of the shore and lowered Hiccup in a small boat, then pushed him away. He sat, helpless, as they tacked back to Berk and a ship from the Outcasts launched and sailed towards him. He sat still, his entire gut roiling and hands trembling as the boat pulled alongside and hooks pulled his little boat in. Rough hands grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and hauled him aboard the ship. He was dumped onto the deck and slowly clambered up.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise-Hiccup!" Savage said. Hiccup forced himself to give an amiable smile.

"For me as well," he said. "Though more of the surprise than the pleasant part." Savage grabbed his arm and hauled him close.

"Dagur will be pleased to see you!" he sneered. Hiccup gave a fake cheery smile.

"How is Dagur? Still Deranged?" Hiccup asked. Savage grabbed him by the tunic and stared into his eyes.

"He'll be very pleased to see you!" he said. Hiccup sighed.

"Oh man..." he murmured.


	3. You will call me 'My Lord'

He was hauled along with equal hostility by the Outcasts as by the Vikings of Berk. He was taken to the Hall that backed onto the Arena and the presence of the Berserker Chief, Dagur. Heavily armoured and surrounded by a quintet of Berserkers, the man slowly lifted his axe to inspect the blade and Hiccup felt a chill shiver down his spine.

The man had killed his father to take control and developed a festering antipathy to Hiccup. He had subjected the boy to some torrid times previously, as Hiccup had been tasked with keeping the insane heir occupied during the peace negotiations between their tribes. Hiccup had scars his father had never seen and nightmares about those horrible days-though he would never shame himself by complaining to his father about his torments. And Dagur was now totally obsessed with the idea of hurting Hiccup and killing his dragon. He pulled his shoulders back as he was thrust into the room.

The Berserker Chief turned as he arrived, his pale eyes lit by madness. His face was marked with tattoos over his left eye and he always wore his Chief's helmet over his cropped carrot red hair, the light gleaming off the upwards horns. He gave a loud giggle and walked forward.

"Hiccup!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, hi, Dagur!" Hiccup responded, as if running into the Berserker Chief was an everyday occurrence. The Berserker grabbed Hiccup by the hair and the boy winced.

"I am a Chief!" he hissed. "You are not!" His expression had instantly switched from whimsical to menacing.

"I am a Chief's son," Hiccup replied painfully as the man pulled harder on his hair. Dagur was always difficult to read, his madness causing unpredictable and violent mood switches.

"Not any more, little man!" Dagur shouted in his face. "From what I hear, you aren't anyone's son any more. You are an Outcast!"

"Yeah, I guess you know more about that than I do, don't you-Dagur?" Hiccup replied bravely, his green eyes glittering. There was no hope of getting out of this well so he might as well at least try to act like a Viking. Dagur released him, his face becoming expressionless.

"I'm going to let Savage orientate you to life here on Outcast Island," he said menacingly, "and then you will be brought back to me. I want to talk to you about your dragon. In fact, I am disappointed you didn't fly here, Hiccup! I thought you would come here to clear your name!"

"Well, I'm here," Hiccup replied calmly. His stomach was dancing with anxiety now. "And why would I bring Toothless here when I know you want to hunt him, Dagur?" The Berserker grabbed him round the throat and lifted him off the floor.

"You will call me, my Lord!" he hissed. "I am going to make you my slave, Hiccup. You will swear loyalty to me. And you will help me get that dragon!" Hiccup choked and Dagur dropped him, hard. The boy staggered.

"No," he said quietly. "I know you're Deranged, Dagur, but even you are not that stupid! I will never help you!" Dagur lurched forward.

"Never is a very long time and I am patient!" he said coldly. "Savage-adjust his frame of mind. I am disappointed in his attitude!" Hiccup felt hands tighten on his arms and he was hauled out to another room, a large cell with just him, Savage and three large Outcasts. He stared up at the de facto outcast leader.

"So is the the time where you show me the way around Outcast Island?" he asked. "Already done the tour. Twice." Savage walked forward. He loathed Hiccup almost as much as Dagur: every time Hiccup had thwarted Alvin, Savage seemed to be the one who paid for his actions. Savage had been dreaming about getting his hands on the boy.

"No, this is the time where you learn that an Outcast is at the mercy of his chief and I have no mercy," he told the boy.

"Really?" Hiccup asked him incredulously. "You went to all that effort to frame me for trying to kill my Dad and then you just decide to beat me up?" He sighed. "Alvin would have had a better plan," he commented in a disappointed voice. Savage's eyes hardened.

"Alvin is gone and I am leader in his place!" his hissed. Hiccup glanced around and sighed.

"Looks to me like Dagur is the leader and you are still just a henchman!" Hiccup told him pointedly. Savage backhanded him and he slammed to the ground hard. He took a deep breath. Then he looked up, his eyes slightly dazed. Savage motioned to his men and they dragged the boy to his feet. Helpless and breathing hard, he faced the Outcast leader with the last of his courage.

"Your mouth will get you into trouble, Outcast!" Savage hissed. Hiccup lifted his chin, his head already spinning.

"You have no idea how often I have heard that," he murmured as Savage closed on him.

oOo

The riders were gathered in the Arena. No one felt like training and no one knew who would be appointed Head of the Academy in Hiccup's place. Astrid was probably the best option though she was a lot less patient and inventive than Hiccup. Fishlegs was cuddling the Bork papers.

"I need to rearrange these," he moaned, gently putting down the Archive. "I can't believe that Hiccup let them throw these over the floor."

"From what I heard, he wasn't even allowed in when they searched his room," Snotlout said. "They knew what they were looking for!"

"Really?" Astrid asked him.

"So how is it going to work now that Hiccup is on Outcast Island?" Tuffnut asked them. "I'm not flying over there every day for training!"

"Look at the dragons!" Ruffnut added. "They all look really sad!"

"Look, none of us thinks Hiccup would harm his father but someone must have put those letters in his room," Astrid announced.

"They never lock the door and he always leaves the hatch open so he and Toothless can get in!" Fishlegs added. "Everyone knows that!"

"Er-I didn't!" Tuffnut announced.

"What about the poison?" Snotlout asked.

"Hiccup has real problems getting squid ink from Trader Johan," Fishlegs revealed. "He never throws the bottles away because he can usually trade them back to Johan for something! There will always be one in his cupboard!"

"What about the Night Fury burn?" Astrid asked. "Could you have been wrong?" Fishlegs looked offended.

"No," he said superiorly. "It was a Night Fury burn."

"But no one saw or heard a Night Fury," Astrid considered. "So, is a Night Fury the only dragon that could make that burn or could another make one like it?" Fishlegs looked at her in understanding but the twins appeared confused.

"I can explore the archives and see if Bork had anything to offer," he mused. Then his face brightened. "I can even experiment," he offered with a grin.

"You do that!" Astrid said. "Snotlout and I will go to Gothi and see how difficult it would be to get hold of that poison. Tuffnut, Ruffnut-can you see if there are any signs of landing on isolated beaches? Someone must have got those letters here somehow." There was a pause and Fishlegs raised his hand.

"If we believe that Hiccup is innocent-and I'm not saying that he isn't-then you are implying that someone still on Berk tried to kill Stoick and framed Hiccup for the crime," he said in a wavering voice. Astrid nodded.

"That is exactly what I'm saying!" she said.

oOo

Hiccup woke up curled on the stone floor of a cell. His wrists were roped together tightly and he was very sore and bruised from the beating he had endured. He groaned painfully and curled up tighter. He had really hoped he would wake up from this horrible nightmare but he was still on Outcast Island.

His head was pounding and he screwed his eyes tighter closed. His throat felt thick with misery and he felt tears burning the back of his eyelids. He had not wept when he had messed up while fighting dragons, when he had been repeatedly humiliated and punished by his father and scorned and ostracised by his tribe. He hadn't wept when he was bullied and beaten up by the other Viking boys, especially the older ones who had delighted in picking on the runt. He hadn't even wept when he had been so brutally disowned by his father after he found out about Toothless because in his heart, he had known he had deserved the punishment. But his courage was already ebbing away and he felt miserably as if he was going to humiliate himself again because he knew this was utterly unfair.

He listened carefully and felt his breath shudder jaggedly in his throat. No one cared if he lived or died here and his brain was so fuzzy with misery that he couldn't imagine a plan to escape. There were footsteps outside and he stiffened as the door opened. He guessed his rest was over. But he remained still until Savage grabbed him by the hair and wrenched him up. He yelped.

"Ow! You could have asked!" he protested. He stiffly stumbled to his feet and groaned.

"You are a stupid, stubborn boy," Savage condemned him. "But you are here and alone. I have plenty of time. You have a limited amount of courage." Hiccup stared up at him. The man's tone was cruel and he knew that Savage was already planning another try at cowing him. He felt his stomach tighten with fear: when he was overshadowed by Alvin, Savage had seemed less threatening but here, unfettered by the big Outcast's orders, Savage was suddenly very frightening. But for the moment, he was dragged from the room and led back to the bigger chamber and the Berserker Chief. Dagur turned as he was brought in and took in his hunched shape and the developing bruises on his face. He gave a wide smile.

"Hiccup!" he exclaimed. "You look less frisky!"

"Er-looks can be deceiving, Dagur!" Hiccup replied. The Berserker backhanded him without warning and he hit the floor hard.

"You need to learn who is in charge, little man!" he roared. Hiccup painfully stirred and then slowly scrambled to his knees. His head was ringing from the blow. He breathed hard.

"What do you want?" Hiccup asked quietly. He didn't try to get to his feet because he felt they wouldn't hold him at the moment. He felt dizzy and sick. Dagur, though, grabbed him by the front of his tunic and wrenched him up.

"The Night Fury," he hissed. Hiccup faced the insane Berserker.

"C'mon, that's not happening, Dagur!" he said wearily. Dagur grabbed his hair and wrenched his head back. Hiccup yelped in pain.

"You know, Hiccup, I can make you regret ever being born!" he threatened.

"Yeah, get in line," the boy shot back, his voice tight with pain. Dagur pulled his head back further.

"Or I could just snap your scrawny little neck!" he hissed. Hiccup couldn't stop the flash of fear that surged through his eyes but he forced his voice to remain defiant.

"You kill me and you will never get him!" he promised. Dagur leaned closer.

"So you would sell the dragon for your life?" he hissed, loosening the vicious pull. Hiccup stared into the pale, mad eyes.

"I never said that," he said quietly. "And I will not help you against Berk!" Dagur lifted him until his feet were off the ground.

"You forget reality, boy!" he shouted at his prisoner. "You are exiled from your home. You are disowned by your father. You are Outcast from your people. You are nothing. You have nothing!"

"I am the son of Stoick the Vast," Hiccup said back evenly. "I am a Viking of Berk. I am the rider of Toothless, Head of the Berk Training Academy. And I am no traitor!" Dagur glared into his face and he threw the boy to the floor.

"You have no home, no family and you are Outcast. You will be my slave," he shouted.

"I am NOT a slave!" Hiccup shouted back, his eyes flashing with anger.

"You are my slave and by Asgard, you will learn your place!" Dagur roared.

Hiccup opened his mouth to scorch a retort back and then he felt a sudden tug of fear. The Hooligans did not practice slavery but most other Vikings did. And he had a really horrible thought that the Berserkers and Outcasts certainly would. Savage gave a low chuckle.

"Hah! The boy had worked it out!" he sneered. Dagur stood coldly over Hiccup.

"I will go to Berk and I will show Stoick that I have the remains of his son as my slave!" Hiccup stared up at him, wondering if he had the wit to realise that his arrival with Hiccup as slave-rather than his ally-would almost prove his innocence. But the vindication that would provide would be far too late to be of any use to Hiccup because he knew now that all he could expect was a truly dismal time. Then he slowly climbed to his feet.

"You can say what you want but it doesn't get you Toothless," he said quietly. Dagur grabbed his face and leaned very close.

"When I have finished with you, Hiccup, you will be begging to help me hunt and kill that dragon!" he breathed. Hiccup sighed.

"Really?" he said. "I think you'll have to kill me." Dagur dug his fingers in deeper.

"I will not allow you to die," he hissed, "because I want to see you suffer!"

"I won't call you Lord or Master," Hiccup told him gruffly. His throat was tightening alarmingly with fear. "I am the son of the Chief of Berk!" Dagur shoved him back and nodded to Savage. Hiccup saw the flash of a blade and tensed, waiting to feel the knife slide into his skin but the ropes around his wrists were cut and he was spun to face Savage. The man gave an even nastier grin and nodded, as two of his men grabbed Hiccup's arms. He struggled and for an instant, fear flashed through his eyes. He could hear Dagur pacing behind him and he knew better than to voluntarily turn his back on the deranged Berserker. The grasps on his arms tightened as Savage reached forward and dragged his tunic up.

"I cannot permit my slave to show such spirit," Dagur said coldly and paced back and forward. Alarmed at the sudden calmness in his voice-so familiar from those horrible days during Treaty signings-Hiccup turned his head and peered over his shoulder. Just in the corner of his eye, he could see Dagur brandishing a whip. He tugged furiously against the grasps on his arms but they tightened painfully and he could feel bruises starting to form. Savage nodded and his men jerked Hiccup still.

"Whatever happens to 'brother?" Hiccup said desperately. The hands holding him dug even harder into his thin arms.

"You threw that back in my face!" Dagur shrieked and Hiccup flinched. "You lied to me and made a fool of me! But no more. Who's the fool now?" Hiccup knew now there was nothing he could do to avoid the horrible pain and he dipped his face.

"It's you," he murmured. "It was always you, Dagur." The whip cracked and Hiccup gave a sudden gasp of pain as the weapon bit into his skinny back.

"Dagur..." he groaned. Dagur laughed as the whip flew again. Hiccup felt his eyes prick with tears and screwed them closed. His hands tightened into fists so tight the knuckles whitened and he pulled once more again the sadistic hands bruising his arms. He shook his head once, hopelessly as Dagur began to laugh, Savage chuckled at his pain and the hideous crack of the whip continue to echo through the room.


	4. Escape

Gobber sighed and stared around the forge. Even though recently Hiccup had only been intermittent in his assistance, the old blacksmith missed him. The boy had been like his son and the betrayal had hit him almost as hard as Stoick. In fact, the Chief would not even permit Hiccup's name to be spoken in his hearing. Toothless was inconsolable and Gobber couldn't believe a boy so loving and caring towards his dragon and his friend could be a cold-blooded killer.

He ambled slowly into the little space that served as Hiccup's workroom and gazed aimlessly at the detritus strewn over the table. The boy had a couple of tiny prototypes, a new design for his saddle and a sketch of Astrid pinned to the wall and the blacksmith felt a twinge of pity there. He had recognised that the boy carried a torch for Astrid long before Hiccup had but that was never to be either. He casually flipped open his sketch book and a folded sheet of parchment slid loose. Gobber frowned and unfolded it. A tangle of runes faced him and he felt dismay curl his stomach.

"Brother, I am excited that you have finalised your plans to retire Stoick. I knew that you were in two minds when we talked on Dragon island but I knew that you would eventually come to see that you were meant to rule. Your plan sounds deliciously clever and I feel all tingly when I read about the Night Fury. Give the signal as soon as he is dead and my Armada will come to support your ascension. Then we can truly stand shoulder to shoulder...well, shoulder to chest...as Chiefs. Dagur, High Chief of the Berserker Tribe."

Gobber rubbed his forehead and sighed. He really didn't want to believe that Hiccup was a traitor but the evidence just kept on coming.

And then he paused. Hiccup was by nature a loner, a young man firmly dismissed and scorned by his peers until Dragon Training. He had lived most of his life alone, recording his thoughts and impressions in his sketches and brave-but frequently amazingly foolhardy-actions. The boy loved his father dearly and was afraid of Dagur. And he was meticulous in his ability to keep secrets. He hadn't betrayed Toothless: the dragon had come to his rescue. Why would he be so careless to just leave evidence lying around? And Hiccup would never befriend Dagur because the man threatened his beloved dragon.

Gobber turned to the door and scowled. Stoick, Toothless and Astrid were Hiccup's nearest and dearest and the boy had risked himself time and again for them. Something was very wrong.

oOo

This time when Hiccup woke, he didn't even try to open his eyes. He just lay still and waited for the pain to assault him. After a blissful second, the onslaught hit and he gritted his teeth tight as tears leaked from his eyes. He could barely breathe and his breath shuddered agonisingly through his brutalised shape. He bit his lip hard to keep the sobs in but they shook through him all the same and he tried to bury his face into the rocky floor to hide his misery.

Berk did not use physical punishment on its people though it was clear the outcasts enjoyed hurting their own. Hiccup had been shouted at, grounded and disowned but never beaten. Now, he was afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe and of the pain those simple actions would cost him. He knew he wasn't a coward, wasn't afraid of pain-hey, he had crashed while defeating a giant dragon and lost his leg. He had fallen off Toothless more times than he could count and had always gotten back up. He was no coward.

"My name is Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third," he murmured quietly, his bruised and bleeding lips moving as he tried to convince himself of his worth. His full name was nothing to be proud of but now it was really important that he clung onto that identity. "I am the son of Stoick the Vast, Chief of Berk. I am the Head of the Dragon Training Academy and the Rider of Toothless the Night Fury. I am a Viking of Berk. I am not a traitor..."

A pain like nothing he had ever felt suddenly gripped his chest. His throat was almost too thick to breathe through and tears slithered down his battered face. He pressed his eyelids closed tighter but the tears continued to leak down his skin. His memory flew back to the dock, to the bewildered green gaze of his dragon, to the despairing roars that had echoed long after the boy had vanished from sight. 'I-I'm s-sorry, bud," he sobbed. "You-you d-don't understand why I left you. D-dad won't let you fly again. You-you're being punished for me..."

Dad. The pain intensified even further and Hiccup wondered if he would die of it-he could barely think for the tearing pain in his chest. His Dad had been the one constant in his life and the boy had loved him desperately though his father was stern, frequently disapproving and often disappointed with his clumsy son. He would never have hurt his father and the fact that his father would accept any evidence over his knowledge of his son's love had completely devastated the boy.

"You are not my son. You are no longer a Viking of Berk. You are an Outcast."

Dad, I never meant to disappoint you or shame you. Please don't believe this of me.

And Astrid...

He dared not even think of her. He had loved her forever and he had thought...hoped...that perhaps one day she would see him as more than a useless runt and troublemaker. At least she was talking to him, joking with him, flying with him... He stopped himself. That was gone as well. Angrily, he slid his hands under his chest and shoved himself to his knees, hissing in pain. He blinked more tears back and sat back on his heels and stared at the floor. He felt drained and utterly empty.

He had to get to Toothless. That was all he had left.

No one came. Slowly, painfully, he mastered his sobs, forced the desperate pain back down and raised his damp face. He wasn't even scared of anyone seeing him now because if anyone came, he was dead. He had to get out of the cell.

His mind flew back to the last time he had been on Outcast Island, a prisoner of Alvin and threatened with execution. He had tricked an Outcast guard into letting him out of his cell and had tried to knock him witless with his prosthetic leg. It had failed spectacularly and he had faced a savage beating-until Mildew had intervened. Mildew the Unpleasant. Mildew the Dragon-Hater. Mildew the Traitor.

A surge of hatred rose suddenly in Hiccup's throat. He hated Mildew because the man had betrayed Berk to Alvin. And he cringed inwardly because he knew most of his fellow Berkians now felt the same about him. He levered himself painfully to his feet, a gentle hiss of pain escaping as he limped to the door of the cell. He paused, listening carefully, then stretched his hand round and gently exploring the lock. It was sturdy but simple and he leaned against the rough stone wall and unstrapped his prosthetic leg. There was a bolt that he had meant to be attending to, a little loose and possible to ease out. He leaned his shoulder against the wall, balanced on his real leg and set to work of the bolt.

It was dull, repetitive and fiddly but it allowed him to concentrate his mind in the task, numbing his painful confusion at his exile. Every creak and drip had him flinching, terrified-yes, terrified that Savage or Dagur would come along and he would be tortured by them once more. He flinched at the distant roar of a dragon and then the bolt came free. But he couldn't relax and he stared at the metal for a long moment before he grabbed his courage once more. He wound his hand round and began fiddling with the lock, the clicks loud in the grim dungeon. Finally, he felt the lock give and the door give an inch.

He froze. Finally, he unstiffened and leaned achingly down, then lifted his prosthetic leg and a flat rock. He used the rock to hammer the bolt back into place and swiftly strapped his leg back on, then inched to the door. His heart was pounding so loud he thought that Dagur would hear in his throne room. But he quietly limped out of the door, pushed it closed and scrambled for the shadows. He heard steps and cringed behind an outcrop but the outcast guards ambled past, grumbling gently between themselves. Hiccup felt his throat thick with fear and had to dig his nails into his palm to focus himself.

The side door was unguarded and he slid out then dashed out on the lava plains urgently. His body was screaming pain with every jolt and he had to stop when his chest scorched with the effort. He bent forward and sucked in air, straightening up long before he was recovered. He scrambled down into a gulley, hoping he would be less conspicuous. His stomach was gnawing with hunger, his throat parchment dry with thirst and his head pounding with exhaustion. But he knew he needed to find a dragon. Find a dragon, train the dragon, fly to Berk, get Toothless and leave forever...

"My name is Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. I am not a traitor. I am the rider of Toothless, the son of Stoick the Vast and a Viking of Berk. And, by Thor, this isn't fair." His voice had cracked and he leaned against the rocky wall, shuddering with sobs once more. He had thought that he had run out of tears but every time he thought of Berk, of Stoick, it seemed the supply was replenished. Though how, he wasn't sure. He was so thirsty...

He pushed himself up, feeling a flash of pain across his back. He hadn't been whipped before and it was definitely something he didn't want to revisit. He forced himself to walk on. Outcast Island had indigenous dragons-he had trained a Deadly Nadder on his last visit and Astrid had befriended a Monstrous Nightmare prior to that. There should be some dragons he could approach, he could train But first he needed water.

The lava plains were arid, jagged and precipitous, difficult to scramble across at the best of times but torture now he was battered and beaten. He froze every time he heard the sound of stone falling or twigs snapping and finally he found a small pool of water that didn't seem too tainted. Wearily, he dropped to his knees and dipped a grimy hand into the water then drank. Thirsty, exhausted and frightened, he drank on until finally he was sated. Then he sat back on his heels and stared dully at the black rocky ground,

"I need to get away," he repeated softly. "I am not a coward. I am not a traitor." Then he painfully clambered to his feet and began to limp along the jagged gulley. The sky overhead was darkening and the thick bank of clouds would cut out any starlight. The temperature was dropping and he could feel himself beginning to shiver. He walked on until he could se the light was almost gone, then scanned the shallow canyon walls for anywhere to hide. Finally, he saw a shallow cave, little more than a scrape behind a fallen chunk of rock and squirmed into the meagre shelter.

He curled up as small as he could make himself, ignoring the pain from his wounds and hugged his knees tight against his chest. He buried his face in his knees and felt sobs begin again.

"I am Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third," he murmured. "I am a Viking of Berk, the rider of Toothless, Head of the Dragon Training Academy. I am the son of Stoick the Vast, Chief of Berk. I am not a traitor, not a coward. I am innocent..." he sobbed, over and over. And finally, alone in the cold and dark, he cried himself to sleep.

He awoke cold and shivering. It was still dark though he could see the pinkish purple blush of dawn warming the sky and the clouds had broken, revealing fading stars. His teeth were chattering and his hands freezing. He had to get moving.

He found he had stiffened up during the night, his bruises aching and back... He closed his eyes and groaned softly as he fought his way to his feet. He breathed hard as he stumbled along the uneven base of the canyon. He had forgotten how many there actually were, an endless knot of gulleys and canyons that dithered across the shattered volcanic landscape. Occasionally, he could see the twisted and menacing shape of Loki trees, leaning gloomily over the lips of the sheer walls and he shuddered. Even the vegetation on Outcast Island was sinister.

He found another shallow pool of water and wetted his mouth but it tasted foul and he spat it out hurriedly. His stomach was hurting ferociously with hunger and he cast around for anything to eat but all he could see were a handful of berries on a lopsided thicket. Recalling what they had done to Snotlout when they had been marooned on Outcast Island, he left them.

Abruptly, he faced it a blank wall and he stared up in despair. The gulley had ended and he would have to look for another way out. He was uncomfortably aware that dawn had broken and he was sure his escape would have been noted. He flinched at the scrape of stone and turned to see a small Gronckle chewing a chunk of basalt a dozen yards away. He gave a slight smile.

"Hey there, fella," he said gently,betraying to keep his voice calm. "How ya doing today?" He gave a wider smile and inched forward, his oft hand extended slightly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna be friends..."

The dragon saw him, gave a tightened shriek and took off at a speed Hiccup had never seen in a Gronckle before. He felt a sudden wave of dismay wash over him. "Wait!" he cried after the retreating dragon but he knew it was no good. Dragon training begins and ends with trust. And somehow, that dragon didn't trust him. He stared into the grey sky. Wrong. It didn't trust any Vikings.

"Dagur-what have you been doing?" he whispered. But his spirits-such as they were-plummeted even further. If the Outcast Island dragons were terrified of the sight of Hiccup, he stood no chance whatsoever of training one and getting home. Then he walked more purposefully along a side- branch and found himself facing a shallow slope. Determinedly, he scrambled up and fell flat on his face. He bit down on the groan though he had scraped his chin and winded himself. He wearily and painfully pushed himself up to his knees.

He knew he was clumsy-in fact, most people on Berk had made a point of commenting on it. He was the despair of his father and the butt of Snotlout's and Tuffnut's jokes and taunts for years. Despite his exploits, it had only gotten worse since he had lost his leg. He was taunted mercilessly and though they no longer beat him up, he was still grimly aware he was slower and less stable than any other teen. But only on his own feet: on Toothless's back, he was peerless. He caught his breath and scrambled more cautiously to his feet. Even so, he still stumbled and fell twice more as he finally reached the plateau. He leaned forward, catching his breath and walked forward-and then he gasped in utter horror.

Dead dragons were littered across the black rocks like discarded toys, their hacked shapes in varying states of decay. Hiccup swallowed convulsively, suddenly tasting vomit in the back of his throat. He had seen plenty of dragons killed, of course, because he had been raised during the war between Vikings and dragons, but he had not seen one slaughtered since he had befriended Toothless. He limped slowly to stand by a dead Monstrous Nightmare, is paws curled gently under it as if sleeping. But the spears sticking out of its corpse ruined the impression. Hiccup brushed the rough scales gently then grasped his hand around the spear and peered at the markings: Berserker.

He stared at it and felt anger scald his throat. Dagur killed dragons for sport, while Alvin had left them be because he had wanted them trusting and ready for training. And while he could not claim that he had not tried to kill dragons, the truth was that the only dragon he had ever killed was the Red Death. He had failed miserably on Berk, causing fires, loss of food, and destruction of homes. He had been a disaster. But he had lost the desire to kill a dragon when he realised that his father had been right: he was no killer. Slowly, he turned away and walked across the shattered rocks, his eyes scanning the jagged landscape. He needed to find a living dragon.

After another hour of stumbling awkwardly across the slippery and rocky ground, he caught sight of a small pink and gold Nadder rooting under a bush. She looked thin and wary but Hiccup gave a gentle croon and slowly approached the young dragon. She looked up and alarmed, her spines rising but he gently spoke to her.

"Easy, girl," he soothed her, slowly closing. She gave a croak and half-furled her wings but Hiccup had almost reached her and then gently turned his head away, praying the dragon would trust him. He knew that he smelled of dragons, of Toothless and that was an advantage he hoped would still help him. He almost gasped a sigh of relief as he felt the muzzle press against his hand. He glanced up at the face and saw the pupils wide and trusting and he gratefully raised his other had to rub the horn firmly, smiling. "Hey, girl," he murmured. "Nice to meet you. You look almost as hungry as I feel!"

The dragon gave a little croak and he spat on his hand, managing to muster a tiny mouthful of saliva to rub into the dry skin to soothe the edgy dragon. Against his will, he found a smile gently tilting his bruised lips. Since the horrible nightmare that his life had abruptly become, this was the first moment he had felt himself. He stroked the dragon, oblivious to anything but the smell, sight and sound of her, feeling the vibration of her croon through his hands.

"Trust me," he murmured. "We'll get out of here and I'll get you a nice meal of cod, hmm? How's that sound?"

A metallic whistling sound suddenly approached and Hiccup ducked, a scream tearing from his throat as the metallic razor-edged bola sliced deeply into her gently curved neck. She gave an appalling shriek of pain and desperation.

"NO!" he screamed, turning to see a second and third bola whirl at her. "No...please..." he added in horror as blood exploded from the wounds. The Deadly Nadder gave a weak little croak as her legs collapsed and she lay bleeding on the ground. He ran to stroke her head, seeing mortal wounds. It wasn't fair. She had done nothing but give him friendship and trust.

She gave a frightened little croon, then her eyes dulled and she lay still. Hiccup felt his throat tighten in grief, the sudden death so shocking that, for a moment, he forgot what it implied. And then hands grabbed his arms and he was wrenched back from the dead dragon.

"You didn't have to do that!" he shouted angrily as he was hauled back. For a brief moment, his anger at the killing overwhelmed his fear at his recapture but as Savage wrenched him up, his stomach clutched with fear.

"You led us over half the island," the Outcast growled. "I want to know how you got out of that cell and then we can teach you not to do it again."

"You didn't need to kill that dragon!" Hiccup shouted at him. Savage tightened his hand ferociously round the boy's skinny neck and he gasped.

"Vikings hunt dragons," he sneered. Hiccup swallowed fearfully and then locked his bright green eyes on the man's cruel face.

"Ask Dagur if he'd even hunt a Skrill," he gasped. Savage frowned for a moment, realising the trap the boy had laid-and then his eyes narrowed. He raised his arm and hit Hiccup without hesitation. The blow slammed the boy to the ground and he hit limply, stunned, his vision greyed with impending unconsciousness. Savage kicked him brutally in the ribs and the pain jerked him back to his senses. He groaned as Savage snatched a handful of hair and dragged the boy to his feet. Fierce grasps tightened around his arms and he ducked his head, his senses still spinning.

"Say that to him and he'll cut your guts out," Savage sneered at him. He raised his hand again and the boy flinched. "Good. You'll learn." Hiccup jerked his eyes up and they flashed with a hint of defiance.

"I-I think I'll pass," he muttered thickly. "Better things to do with my time."

The next blow slammed him to the ground and he lay completely still, his senses deserting him as he heard Savage begin to laugh.


	5. I'm not a slave

Hiccup awoke, bound like a beast. He was back in his wretched little cell, his wrists tied behind his back and shackled by a long chain to the wall and knees roped together like a yak trussed up for the spit. He was lying on his side, his head spinning and feeling sick. And he could hear steps approaching. He lay still, his eyes closed and body tense. He knew he was completely vulnerable.

A staff slammed into his battered ribs and though he bit down, he still groaned. The steps came closer and then a hated voice sounded.

"Oh dear. Come on, Hiccup-open yer eyes!"

Mildew. The traitor who had betrayed Hiccup to Alvin when they had faked an island of Night Furies, the Isle of Night. Hiccup's eyes snapped open and he inclined his head to peer up at the old man.

"There, isn't that much better?" the old man sneered. Mildew could sound almost reasonable even while he was sneering the most foul insults at Hiccup-and the boy had endured a whole lexicon of them. Hiccup glared at the old man.

"No," he hissed. "Go 'way." His voice was thick with pain and weariness. Mildew brandished his staff and frowned.

"Oh, poor little runt," he sneered. "Missing Daddy?" Hiccup's throat tightened and he had to swallow abruptly. His eyes burned with tears. "Get up!"

"Go to Hel," Hiccup mumbled. Whack! The staff crashed into his side and he yelped.

"Get up!" Mildew insisted snidely. "Or can't you even do that?" He hit Hiccup again, this time the staff whacking the boy hard across his tender back. He screamed and curled up frantically, trying to protect himself.

"Traitor," he gasped in agony. The word was little more than a cough of pain. Mildew leaned forward on his staff, his narrow eyes inspecting the boy like an insect. He loathed Hiccup as much as the boy hated Mildew and this was what he had dreamed of.

"So are you," he pointed out snidely. Hiccup stiffened and for a moment the old man thought he might start crying but the boy raised his battered face and stared defiantly up.

"No," he murmured.

"But you're been Outcast for your crimes," Mildew pointed out obviously. "And Savage really isn't happy at your attitude."

"So you're s'posed to improve it?" Hiccup muttered. But the old man laughed.

"And you were supposed to be the brightest boy on Berk!" he scoffed. "Others will have that fun!"

"Can't wait." Mildew swooped forward and grabbed Hiccup's hair. The sudden pain brought tears to his eyes.

"You won't 'ave to," Mildew told him ominously. "We're going to see them now so you can tell them how you escaped. Savage is really angry at you, boy." Hiccup shuddered before Mildew hauled on his hair and dragged the boy to his knees. Sagging like an old sack, the boy hunched on his knees, his head bowed. Mildew stared at him. A less hard man would have felt sorry for the battered boy but Mildew still felt satisfaction that the dragon-loving runt would finally learn the proper Viking way. Then he unlocked the chain and sliced the rope around Hiccup's knees. Hiccup remained still, breathing hard, so the old man grabbed the neck of his tunic and dragged the slight shape to his feet. Hiccup swayed but remained upright so Mildew shoved him forward with his staff. The boy stumbled but managed to keep on his feet as he was driven from the cell.

He became uncomfortably aware that the Outcast guards were sniggering and jeering at him as he made his painful way through the dungeon. Mildew was as taciturn as normal and was clearly enjoying his role as jailer. Hiccup's memory flashed back to his last time in the cells, his disastrous escape attempt and the plaintive plea the old man had made to the boy after he had knocked out the Outcast who had been certain to beat him for his escape attempt. He had relented, his own trusting nature and generous heart giving the old man the benefit of the doubt and releasing him. Mildew had betrayed him, of course, helping Alvin train dragons using the tips Hiccup couldn't help offering. And he wondered if Mildew had been involved again this time.

Mildew grabbed his tunic and stopped him as they rounded a corner into the heart of the dungeon and the wide space lined with guards. Savage was standing there, his expression menacing and Dagur was watching from a corner, his expression bored. Hiccup suddenly felt fear clutch his stomach and he froze. Mildew slammed his staff across his back and he cried out, pitching into his knees.

"Get him up!" Savage snarled and two men hastened to obey. Hiccup was dragged up and he struggled, breathing quickly, feeling the ropes around his wrists cut. Somehow that gave him no confidence at all. The Outcast gave a slow, cruel smile at the boy's fear.

"Scared, boy?" Mildew sneered. "Oh, I am disappointed!"

"Typical Hooligan cowardice," Savage added. Hiccup pulled harder against the grips on his arms.

"I'm not afraid!" he shouted. Dagur stirred.

"Really?Really?" he said mildly. "Whip him!"

"No!" Hiccup blurted before he could stop himself and the Berserker Chief gave a sudden cold smile. "Dagur...please..."

"I'm your master, you pathetic runt!" Dagur roared, lurching forward. "And you will call me that!"

"Not gonna happen," Hiccup breathed through gritted teeth. He felt the grips on his arm tighten so much he began to lose feeling in his hands. The Berserker Chief paced backwards and forwards in front of the struggling boy.

"Do you know what I can do to you?" Dagur breathed. "Anything I want. You are a slave, Hiccup. And I own you!" The boy glanced up and his green eyes flashed with defiance.

"I am Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third," he said breathlessly. Dagur nodded and he heard the whip crack and flinched a the sudden explosion of agony across his already-scored back. He grunted in pain and swayed. "I-I am the s-son of Stoick the Vast, Ch-chief of B-Berk..." Another blow drew a gasp of pain. "I-I am a Viking of B-Berk...r-rider of T-Toothless..." He screamed at the next blow and sagged but lifted his face with a final hint of defiance. Dagur's mouth lifted in a nasty smile. "I am n-not a t-traitor...n-not an out-outcast..." He screamed again. "I-I'm not a s-slave..." he whispered.

Dagur grabbed the boy's face in one hand and forced the boy to look up at him. Hiccup's face was bone white, his only colour the faint freckles scattered over his cheeks and the dark bruising from Savage's blows. His green eyes were dark with pain and fear. The Berserker Chief watched as the boy's face wrenched into another scream of pain as the whip scourged him again. The Berserker dug his fingers harder into the bruised flesh to keep the boy conscious.

"Oh, but you are," he said.

oOo

Gobber found the teens hanging around in the Arena, aimlessly petting their dragons. Astrid was throwing her axe at targets with a ferocity that had him admiring her dedication. Snotlout was showing off to the twins and the old Blacksmith noted that Hiccup's cousin looked a lot less upset than the other teens. Snotlout was brash and self-absorbed anyway and he kept stealing glances at Astrid as she demolished another target with scream of rage. Gobber recalled that Snotlout had pestered Astrid more or less non-stop at the start of Dragon Training though since the Academy had opened, she had spent more time with Hiccup than anyone else. He sighed. He knew the boy well enough to recognise that Hiccup had a huge crush on Astrid: he doubted Snotlout stood a chance.

Fishlegs noticed the blacksmith first, looking up from the rearranged Bork papers that he had fussily rescued and reorganised from Hiccup's room. He sniffed.

"Nothing!" he moaned. "Bork had written absolutely nothing on the comparative features of dragon burns." He sighed. "Though of course I consider myself the expert in this field..." And then he turned a page in the journal and found a couple of sheets of parchment tucked in. Aimlessly, he opened the paper and peered at a beautiful representation of the burn pattern of all the dragons, effortlessly sketched by Hiccup. The boy was the best draftsman and artist among the teens and he had always helped Fishlegs, who was a hopeless artist.

Wordlessly, Fishlegs folded the paper and then realised there was another sheet carelessly folded behind the burns. He unfolded it and saw amazingly accurate representations of the teens-Fishlegs with his Gronckle Meatlug, the twins in another of their pitched battles, Snotlout posing heroically and Astrid... Fishlegs stared at the small image, crafted with obvious love and attention. It was a beautiful drawing and told Fishlegs-if he hadn't already guessed-how much Hiccup cared for Astrid. He folded the picture carefully and slid it in the back cover for protection. He glanced over to Meatlug and the dragon gave a little burp in acknowledgment.

Gobber walked over to Astrid and ducked as she swung furiously, nearly taking his head off. "Good form!" he complimented her, then caught her axe before she could swing again. She glared at him, her blue eyes flashing with anger.

"I expected better if you!" she spat. Gobber frowned slightly.

"What?" He was able to master the dumb look perfectly after so many years of practising. Astrid spun to face him.

"You worked with him for years and you've known him since he was a baby!" she accused him. "But you didn't speak up for him!"

"But the evidence..."

"Sweet baby Thor! And you believed it over him?" she snapped. "Dagur has mistreated Hiccup for years and years. He threatened to kill Toothless. Hiccup would NEVER have anything to do with him!"

"Lass, while I know Hiccup is your friend, you can't deny he isn't the most obedient boy," Gobber told her gravely. "And who knows what he and Dagur discussed when they were alone on Dragon Island?" He paused and a nasty thought struck him. "When exactly did Hiccup plan the training exercise on Dragon Island anyway?" Astrid stared at him.

"He didn't!" she said coldly. "I planned it and only told Hiccup and the others that morning. It was to improve our survival skills without our dragons..."

"Yeah-he'll really need those now," Gobber said with a hint of concern. Hiccup was certainly brave, determined and inventive but he was still very small for his age, weak and one-legged. His default when in trouble was to put on a brave front and engage his sarcastic sense of humour. The old blacksmith doubted any of his captors would appreciate the sarcasm and that could cost the boy dearly.

"Look, Gobber-Hiccup was really alarmed by Dagur when he met him on Dragon Island," Astrid said softly. "Dagur was hunting dragons-and he wanted the Night Fury. We saw Dagur try to kill Toothless and he threatened to kill Hiccup when he stopped him. He sent us to find our dragons when it was obvious they had escaped Tuffnut. When we caught up with him, he was fighting Dagur for Toothless. Toothless saved him."

"How did Dagur get away?" Gobber asked thoughtfully. Astrid sighed.

"Hiccup let him go," she admitted. Gobber scowled. "Yes, I know it looks bad in light of everything that has gone down but really, Dagur's entire armada was there and if we had hung around, we and our dragons could have been killed. I could tell Hiccup was very unhappy at letting him go but he knew his duty was to us and the dragons." Gobber patted her shoulder comfortingly.

"Aye, lass-that it was," he murmured.

"Gobber-do you really believe that he's a traitor?" she asked him slowly. The old blacksmith paused for a long second.

"No," he said heavily. "He loves his father. All he ever wanted was his father's love and respect. He was badly wounded whenever Stoick was disappointed and angry at him but he tried never to let him know. That boy would walk through fire for his father! He would never betray him." Fishlegs walked forward.

"So someone else must have put that evidence there," he offered. Gobber handed over the latest letter and Fishlegs and Astrid read it with dismay.

"So everyone knows where Hiccup keeps his things," Astrid said spikily. "This total rot!" Snotlout cockily ambled over.

"Another one?" he asked guilelessly. "Are we any closer to finding out who did this?" Gobber stared at him.

"You're looking for someone else?" he asked. Astrid nodded.

"Hiccup would never try to kill his father!" she announced. "So someone else must have. And that person is still on Berk while Hiccup is on Outcast Island." Gobber pushed his helmet back and rubbed his forehead.

"Don't let Stoick know," he advised them gruffly. "He won't even allow Hiccup's name to be spoken in his hearing. I've never seen him so grim." Then he paused. "But if he was really a traitor, he wouldn't be begging not to go. He was so shocked, so upset, that he lost his facade. That boy had endured some horrible times and never broken. Until now." Astrid stared at the floor.

"Do you think he's still alive?" she asked worriedly. Gobber patted her on the shoulder.

"If it's possible, he will," he said, praying to Odin he was right.


	6. Yak dung, wood and refuse

Hiccup awoke with a whimper, curled in the little cold cell. They hadn't bound him this time but he guessed that didn't matter because he doubted he could move anyway. His throat tightened in agony and he felt hot tears roll down his battered cheeks. His hands closed into fists and he pressed them to his face as shudders agonisingly jolted through him. His back was burning, so painful he scarcely dared to breathe and his arms felt bruised and stiff.

Sobs tore through him and he was struggling to breathe through his thickened throat. Fresh tears coursed down his face and he curled up tighter, into a little huddle. He had never felt such despair or misery. Dagur would never let him go, never let him escape. He would never see Toothless again.

The sounds of a step on the floor had him stiffening in fear but he buried his face in his hands: he didn't want to see whatever was coming. Then he froze as a foot nudged his side.

"Oh dear, you are looking a mess, 'Iccup," Mildew said conversationally as he inspected the curled up boy. "You really are a stupid boy!" Hiccup only began breathing again when the old man took his foot away.

"Go 'way," Hiccup murmured thickly.

"Oh, that 'urts me," Mildew said mildly. "When all I'm trying to do is 'elp yer." He tapped Hiccup's side with his staff and the boy flinched visibly. "On yer feet, boy! Rest time's over!" Hiccup's bowed head moved, his unkempt auburn hair moving to reveal the wary green gaze, the long lashes still beaded with tears. The boy's face was ashen and he looked frightened. Slowly, he moved his hands and achingly shoved himself to his knees-and then he froze, his eyes suddenly wide with terror as the old man deliberately rested his staff across the boy's back. Mildew watched his breathing rapidly accelerate and he almost seemed on the verge of panic.

"Please," he whispered, shaking his head. He closed his eyes and tears splashed onto the ground.

"You're a disgrace as a Viking!" Mildew spat in disgust. "I'd be doin' yer a favour if I beat that out of you!" Hiccup cringed, his shoulders shuddering jerkily as soft sobs sounded in the cell.

"No..." he breathed. Mildew lifted the staff and almost-almost-brought it down on the scrawny shape and then he sighed. He would have really liked to give the defiant and irritating boy a good hiding but he could see the boy was already badly beaten and Savage had given his orders. So he satisfied himself by slamming the staff onto the ground immediately by the boy's body and he was rewarded by a spectacular flinch as the boy cringed away in terror. Mildew swallowed his exasperation then snatched a huge handful of the boy's hair and wrenched him to his feet.

"Get up!" Mildew sneered. He was mildly fascinated at how brave the boy was being, how obviously frightened he was and how small and vulnerable he looked without his dragon. Hiccup painfully limped towards the door and the old man followed, his staff ready. But he grabbed the boy's arm as they entered to passage and he pulled him to one side. A bowl of water, a smoked fish and some dry black bread were waiting. Hiccup glanced up warily.

"We ain't going to get any work from yer if yer starving," Mildew told him in a mocking voice. "I can take it away if yer want..." The boy literally snatched at the bread, sinking his teeth into the dry hunk ravenously and the old man realised that he hadn't been fed since he arrived on the island. Hiccup was small and scrawny usually but now he looked thin and gaunt, his shoulders hunched with fear and pain. He finished the breakfast rapidly, wiping his mouth with a dirty cuff.

"Th-thanks," he murmured. Mildew ignored him.

"I'm doin' this because my Chief ordered me to," he said stiffly. Hiccup cast him a jaded glance.

"Never managed that back on Berk," he shot back and flinched as the man's staff jerked. He swallowed anxiously but Mildew satisfied himself with a scowl.

"I'm an Outcast now and I respect my leader," he announced gruffly.

"Savage?" Hiccup laughed, his expression frankly disbelieving. Somehow, talking with Mildew-even though he hated the mean old man-was a lot less threatening than dealing with anyone else on Outcast Island. Not that he could deal with anyone else. The rest of them just meant him harm.

"I doubt even Savage respects Savage!" Mildew did hit him then, a heavy cuff on the back of the head that sent him stumbling and nearly dumped him on his face.

"Watch yer mouth, boy, before it gets yer in real trouble!" Mildew snapped. Hiccup rubbed the back of his head and staggered up a slope and up to a barred gate.

"Yeah, kinda figured that already," he sighed and then found himself shoved out. He was in a yard, under the cold and drizzly grey skies, piles of wood, rubbish and dung strewn over the expanse. He stopped and Mildew had to shove him on again. Hiccup turned to look at him.

"What-what's going on, Mildew?" he asked in a quiet voice. There were Outcast guards stationed around the perimeter and he was beginning to feel fear stir in the pit of his stomach. He wished he hadn't eaten the smoked fish now.

"Yer being put to work, 'iccup," the old man told him. "Savage doesn't want you having the energy for any more escape attempts and he reckons you should start pulling yer weight and paying for the generous hospitality yer getting 'ere." Hiccup stared at the yard.

"So-so what exactly am I supposed to do?" he asked faintly.

"Clear the rubbish, chop the wood and bag and move the yak dung...for starters," a heavyset Outcast growled. "And look lively. We've other chores you can do once you're done here." Hiccup swallowed the lump that had suddenly thickened his throat. Even without his recent treatment, he couldn't have managed all that work. He glanced briefly at Mildew and the old man gave a nasty grin.

"A real Viking could do this all by lunch," he told the boy. Hiccup sagged.

"Oh, come on!" he protested. "I think we all know where I fit in the scale of real Vikings!" Mildew gave a nastier grin.

"If you don't complete the jobs by nightfall, Savage will have you whipped again," he said sternly and was rewarded by the boy's face locking in a grimace of terror. He really did fear being whipped. "But I think there may be a coupla ways yer can avoid that..." Hiccup looked up hopefully.

"Such as..?" he asked faintly.

"Yer can help Dagur invade Berk and hand over yer dragon, boy. You knows it's the only way!" Mildew told him snidely. Hiccup shook his head.

"Never gonna happen," he breathed, hunching his shoulders.

"You could do the work of three grown men in one day," Mildew suggested.

"Anything else?" The words were hopeless now: he knew Mildew was taunting him.

"You see that big guard, the man in charge?" Mildew offered, indicating to the man with his staff. Hiccup nodded. "If yer very lucky, he'll decide to speak up for yer and stop Savage beating you." The boy's brow furrowed with suspicion.

"And why-why would he do that?" he stammered warily. Mildew smiled.

"If he likes what you do for 'im, boy!" he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He likes them young and you should be just up his street, so to speak..." Hiccup's throat tightened and he tasted vomit in the back of his throat. He was really regretting the fish now. Betraying Berk and Toothless, allowing the Outcast guard to rape him or attempting a hopeless task. He shrugged.

"Looks like it's the work of three grown men, then," he sighed and limped across to the wood pile.

Mildew was mildly impressed at the boy's determination as he toiled throughout the day. Hiccup was small and he was clumsy but he made up for his lack of size and strength with sheer bone-headedness. The old man could see he was really suffering, his back held curiously straight in a vain attempt to minimise the pain from his welts. He managed to chop the wood by lunch and Mildew watched the sweating boy chew the bread provided, absently rubbing his painful stump. His prosthesis was chafing and he hadn't been able to tend the tender area for days. The guards were snide and Mildew could sense boredom building during the afternoon as the boy began to shift the yak dung. They tended to encourage the boy with verbal threats and the occasional clip around the ear and Mildew saw him have to steady himself and bravely carry on after each rough blow.

The old man tuned into the chatter and he felt his heart sink a little. It was pretty obvious that the lad wouldn't complete his task though he had exceeded Mildew's expectations already with his determination and stamina. And the guards were already guessing how long it would take for the big guard to make his move. There was wagering going on but Mildew had heard another rumour: Dagur wanted the boy as well. The old man was smart enough to back the insane Berserker and he knew Dagur would be enraged if anything spoiled his fun. Hiccup was his special project.

The light was starting to fade as Hiccup wearily laid his shovel aside and dragged the sack of dung neatly by the others. He was barely able to think from weariness and every muscle in his body was screaming protests at him. He sighed and rubbed his shoulder before slowly limping back to the pile. For an island with no grass, little vegetation and almost no water, there was an awful lot of yak dung. The big Outcast Guard was standing, glaring at him.

"You're not going to finish!" he accused the boy. Hiccup tried not to wince, tried not to betray his sudden sickening apprehension but the guard gave a leer that showed he had failed dismally.

"There's still time," he begged, reaching for the shovel. The guard caught his wrist painfully tightly and jerked the boy forward.

"Less than an hour," he said roughly. "Not enough to finish-but enough time to do what needs to be done!" For a long second, Hiccup went absolutely rigid, his eyes wide with fear and disgust. Then he wrenched at the grip with all his might.

"Let me go!" he shouted desperately. "I need to get this done..."

"You need to do as you're told, boy, and I will save you the whipping," the guard told him coldly. There was something repellant in his frosty gaze: something, he now realised with terrifying clarity, that was familiar from Dagur. Hiccup shook his head, twisting his wrist frantically against the grasp.

"Please...no..." he begged, to the laughter of the other guards.

"Boy sounds a bit too fussy for you, Jori!"

"That spirit needs breaking-feel up to the job?"

"He look pretty skinny-do you think you'll get in?"

"Yeah-you may be too big for him!"

"Please..." he whimpered, shaking his head desperately as he was hauled bodily across the stones towards the little shelter for the guards. His prosthesis scraped loudly in the yard to the sounds of raucous laughter. His pleading cries were thickening into sobs of fear and Mildew shoved himself to his feet. He didn't care about Hiccup, though he did have good money on Dagur getting the boy but there was something in the pitiful cries that made it him stride across to the boy.

"I 'ope you enjoy it," he said snidely. "A fresh boy, struggling against you, begging yer not to 'urt 'im...must make you feel like a big man. Must really be great fun..." The Outcasts paused and through his terror, Hiccup realised that Mildew was scarcely more popular with the Outcasts than he had been on Berk.

"What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously. He stopped dragging Hiccup but the boy was still tightly trapped. He froze, not even daring to breathe.

"Only...Dagur was really wanting to do the boy 'imself," Mildew said thoughtfully. "Probably in front of the village...or so the rumour goes. Never mind. I'm sure he'll understand you needed to have him first. He's known for 'is generosity..." The Outcast frowned: that didn't sound at all like Dagur. In fact, the last man who had interrupted his fun had briefly inspected his own guts before being pitched into the ocean.

"Are you serious?" the Outcast asked him suspiciously. "You've been here all day watching him. How'm I sure you don't want him for yourself?" Mildew gave an especially unpleasant scowl.

"I've buried three wives," he told the man shortly. "Boy ain't my flavour!" He stared grimly at Hiccup. "But 'e is Dagur's, if yer take my meaning..." The Outcast released Hiccup and the boy almost collapsed to his knees in relief. His wrist was scarlet from the ferocious grip.

"Sun's setting," the Outcast snarled, kicked at the boy and made him yelp in pain. "He's failed."

"Then I'll take 'im to Savage," Mildew said and grabbed Hiccup's arm. "Up, boy. Can't keep your Chief waiting!"

"He's not my Chief," Hiccup mumbled tonelessly. Mildew immediately slammed a vicious blow into his body with his staff and watched him fly to the ground with a low groan. He followed it up with a second and third blow that had the boy curled on his side, protecting his head.

"Mind yer tongue, boy, or Savage'll rip it out!" he shouted. The boy flinched and said nothing. So Mildew wrenched him up by the tunic and shoved him out of the yard before any of the Outcasts could join in. Once in the passage he stopped and let the boy catch his breath. Hiccup was hunched up, his head down and staring ferociously at the floor. His breathing was ragged.

"Don't get me wrong, boy!" Mildew told him brusquely. "I've got money on Dagur 'aving yer-that's all!" Hiccup said nothing and the old man was shocked to see him trembling so hard his prosthesis was clicking slightly. His nostrils flared and Mildew wondered if he would start weeping again but it was clear the boy was too shocked and terrified to cry. He was hyperventilating and his face was white.

"Thank you," he whispered. Mildew sighed. For a moment, the boy looked utterly cowed.

"'E was right about one thing," he told Hiccup. "Yer ain't finished. Savage is going to beat yer." Slowly, warily, Hiccup raised his face slightly.

"You-you know," he said faintly, the vaguest hint of defiance entering his wavering voice, "a-after what-what almost h-happened, I-I-I think a whipping...would be preferable."

oOo

Savage didn't whip him. But he screamed a torrent of abuse at the boy, knocked him to the ground a handful of times and then sent him back out to complete the yard.

The Outcast guards were angry because they were sent as well to watch and encourage him. Mildew settled comfortably at one side, a warm cloak draped around him, his staff resting against his shoulder and watched the show. He guessed that Savage and Dagur had looked in on the boy during the day and had decided that the best way to break his spirit was to break all parts of him-his stamina, his courage, his hide. The guards were much freer with their whips and the boy suffered far more as the temperature dropped and his panting breaths clouded around him. It was long after midnight and the thin sliver of a moon was cold and pale as the task was done.

The lead guard grabbed the boy by his hair as he shoved him across the yard towards the door and the waiting Mildew.

"Don't think this is over, traitor!" he hissed, his foul breath almost making Hiccup gag. "When Dagur's had his fun with you, I'll be here, waiting to make you scream!" Hiccup shuddered and then was handed over to the old man. Mildew wordlessly dragged the boy back to his cell and tossed brutally in. He landed on his side and bowed his head to the floor.

Mildew turned away after he had shut the door but even he couldn't miss the sobbing breaths that echoed in the darkness or the single pleading word:

"Toothless."

oOo

The Night Fury wouldn't come out of his cage for anyone but Astrid and he barely ate, even the choicest fillets of cod and salmon. He just whined and howled and stared desolately towards Outcast Island.

Astrid watched him worriedly. She had asked Stoick if she could fly him and he had reluctantly acquiesced, asking Gobber to hand over the saddle and tail. But though the old blacksmith had helped her, Toothless had refused to let them put his saddle on. Instead, the had curled up by the saddle, whimpering and gently sniffing it. His wide green eyes were utterly miserable and Astrid feared that without Hiccup, he would pine away and die.


	7. Nightmares

Hiccup dreamed...

He was back on Berk but everything had changed: even the weather was unrealistically warm. He limped slowly up the hill and found himself in the a plaza, face to face with his father. But Stoick was smiling proudly, his arm draped paternally round Snotlout's shoulder and his booming voice announcing his pride to the whole village in a way he had never done for Hiccup.

"That's my boy!" he boomed. "A fitting heir for village-a real Viking to be proud of. Far better then my previous heir..."

He didn't even say son, Hiccup thought with a stab of pain. Stoick had finally got the son he wanted- big, brash, brawny, all those 'B' words that Hiccup was so useless at. Snotlout gave a smug grin and waved.

"Hey, babe!" he cried as Astrid flung herself into his arms and shared a long and far too intimate kiss. Hiccup felt his stomach jolt with dismay. This was even worse than he had guessed.

"Hiya, babe!" she replied sparkily, her eyes glittering with affection. She nuzzled against him again and then he nudged her, as if noticing Hiccup for the first time. She turned her head to spy the exile-and then she devastatingly turned away.

Hiccup felt himself cringe, his stomach curling in shame at the dismissal. There was no emotion in her eyes except mild disgust.

"A-Astrid?" he breathed in a voice hoarse with shock. "What...what...?" She gave an exaggerated sigh and turned to face him.

"I would hardly go out its a traitor!" she spat angrily. "Once you were Cast Out, I decided to accept Snotlout's suit. After all, he is everything a Viking should be-and he's never betrayed Berk!" Hiccup flinched at the insults as if they were blows from the lash. He shrank back, his eyes downcast. If he stared at her beautiful face, twisted with disgust and hatred for him, he would shatter.

"And...Toothless?" he begged. "At least tell me where he is?" Her pause was too long and he looked up, his heart suddenly wrapped in ice.

"He died," she said in a slightly softer tone. "When you betrayed us, when you left him, he wouldn't eat and wouldn't fly. He pined to death for you."

His legs gave way and a scream of agony burst from his throat. "NO!" He felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest, the pain shrouding him like a cloak of fire. He shook his head, tears running down his face. "No! No...Toothless...I'm so sorry, bud..."

"If you had got here sooner, maybe he could have hung on, Hiccup," Astrid told him in her relentless accusing tone. "But you have been gone months. I don't know why you bothered to show up now. It's clear you haven't exactly been suffering!" His head snapped up, the tears still glistening on his cheeks. She gestured to him and, for the first time, he realised he was in Berserker armour, hand-stitched leather and polished metal, a thick golden collar around his skinny neck. He looked rich and well cared-for and though his terrible scars from the whip and his other torments were concealed, he realised with horror what the uniform, the rich, almost Royal clothing implied. Dagur.

Pathetically, he threw his arms up in front of his head. He was shaking his head desperately, wishing, praying it wasn't true. "No, no, no, no," he moaned. "If you only knew what I suffered, what I had to do just to survive...please, Astrid...I'm not a traitor...I never gave in..."

"Hiccup!" The voice caused him to flinch and cringe away, his shoulders starting to shudder. "Come here, brother..."

"Odin, please, help me," Hiccup breathed as the Berserker Chief strode up the hill, a phalanx of his close guard at his shoulders. They saw Hiccup at once and hauled him to his feet, then Dagur closed the distance between them and hooked his arm around the boy's skinny waist. Hiccup stiffened, his eyes looking trapped as the Berserker pulled him closer.

"What's the matter, brother?" Dagur asked him loudly, oblivious to the rigid shape in his embrace. He pulled the resisting boy tighter and leaned close enough to whisper cruelly in his ear.

"Have you forgotten what we agreed? I leave Berk alone if you...are mine. Whenever and however I desire." Hiccup shook his head slightly, his green eyes dark with fear and shame. He hadn't forgotten a second: the helplessness, the casual brutality the man meted to him whenever he desired, the repeated pain of the hated act, the condemnation of his submission from every eye, the utter feeling of worthlessness every hour of every day.

"No, master-I haven't forgotten," he breathed in a low voice. Dagur gave a smile and pulled him close.

"Good," he said and pressed a hard kiss on Hiccup's mouth...

oOo

...Hiccup woke with a scream. He screamed again and again until his eyes focused on the wretched cold cell and he realised his clothing was the grimy and bloodstained clothes he had worn from Berk and he was Outcast Island. And he wasn't Dagur's.

He raised a shaking hand to his face, feeling fresh tears and grateful he could shed them. He was still alive. He suddenly sagged forward, supporting himself with one hand and swiping away the tears. He was still a prisoner and he ached all over. His stomach was growling with hunger and he felt thirsty and lightheaded.

"I am Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third" he said wearily. "I am a Viking of Berk and the son of Stoick the Vast. I am the rider of Toothless and Head of the Berk Dragon Training Academy. I am not a traitor. Oh gods, I am not a traitor." His voice cracked. His shoulders shuddered with sobs as a wave of misery overwhelmed him. "Please don't let me become a traitor. Please don't let him..." His voice became unintelligible and he wrapped his arms around his battered body. "Please don't let me break," he whispered.

"On yer feet!" Mildew snapped and he cuffed his tears away, then looked up. And froze. Savage and Dagur were standing behind the old man and Hiccup felt his heart pounding in his chest and his breathing accelerating close to panic. The taunts and threats from the previous day instantly rolled around his memory. He scrambled to his feet and back-pedalled until he hit the back wall of the cell. The door creaked as the three men walked in. Dagur's eyes were calculating, a peculiar smile twisting his face. His fist was clenching and unclenching and Hiccup swallowed nervously. The last images of his nightmare flashed back.

"Hiccup!" Dagur said in a thoughtful voice. "Not looking so frisky now?" He shook his head silently.

"Hospitality needs some work, Dagur," he said quietly, testing the man. The fists clenched and Dagur's face fell into a deeply unpleasant scowl. Hiccup pressed himself harder again the wall, ignoring the pain from his welts.

"And your attitude still needs some work," Savage sneered. His smile was even less reassuring. Hiccup gave a wary shrug, aware he was completely vulnerable: skinny, small, beaten, his eyes still red and swollen from weeping.

"Sorry, I'll try to fit it into my diary," he murmured. Savage lurched forward and Hiccup stiffened, his eyes widened. Mildew was quicker, whacking the boy hard with his staff. Hiccup yelped and grasped that he arm that had born the brunt of the blow. He cast the old man a vaguely defiant look and Mildew raised his staff again, but Dagur raised his hand.

"I am disappointed," he said softly. "I always knew you as bright." Hiccup offered an apologetic smile.

"What can I say?" he replied, his voice wavering. His stomach was roiling with anxiety. "Guess I just won't fit in here. You should just let me go..."

Then Dagur lunged forward and grabbed him by the throat. Hiccup gasped, choking, his hands clawing at the ferocious grip. He lifted the boy abruptly so his foot hung a foot above the floor.

"Never!" he roared and the boy flinched. "I've wanted you for a long time, Hiccup. And you will learn to obey me!" Hiccup tightened his hands round the choking grip. His vision was greying.

"Choking...me..." he rasped. Dagur stared at him then slammed him to the floor, kicking him cruelly. He curled up, throwing his hands over his hand and waited for the rest of the beating. Dagur stood fiercely over him, breathing hard. Then he snatched the boy's tunic and dragged the boy from the cell.

"Come with me!" he snarled and Hiccup suddenly began resisting frantically.

"No!" he screamed so Dagur paused, turned and hit him hard. His painful cry echoed through the cell and he had stopped resisting when Dagur resumed his furious stomp from the room, the limp shape dragging behind him. Mildew stared after the stunned boy and sighed. He wondered if he would be collecting his bet soon.

"Should've learned to keep yer mouth shut," he muttered as he pulled the cell door closed behind him.

oOo

After a lot of arguing among the teen riders-mainly over who wouldn't go- Astrid and Snotlout visited the Village Elder, Gothi, in her little house on the edge of the village. No one except the Chief and people seeking her medical expertise visited her, though she tended to pop up unexpectedly at all sorts of village events. She had not been there for Hiccup's trial and exile.

The old woman was grumpy but she listened to Astrid's questions and scratched her answers on the floor. Gobber had consulted her over Stoick's sickness and she confirmed it had been poison. But her diagnosis was more perplexing than the blacksmith's: the poison-Dawnstar Root-would not have been fatal. It was designed to make the Chief sick, not dead.

Astrid and Snotlout shared a glance.

"Why would anyone try to poison someone not to kill them?" the boy asked with a confused scowl. He wasn't the sharpest axe in the armoury, but he knew it made no sense. Astrid paused.

"To make it look like someone was trying to kill him," she murmured."Snotlout, have you ever seen Toothless miss anything he aimed at?"

Snotlout snorted in derision. "Er...duh! He's a Night Fury" He never misses!" he scoffed. She gave a slight smile.

"Exactly!" she exclaimed. She leaned close to Gothi. "Gothi, I have last question for you. Could you make this poison from any ingredients or it would have be from you?" The old woman rolled here eyes and scratched a long answer on the floor. Astrid peered.

"The poison can be used as a cure for certain problems...but can be very bad if taken in too great a quantity!" Astrid murmured. Snotlout folded his arms.

"So did anyone have this...medicine recently?" he asked. Gothi looked at him with a small smile, as if he had passed a very difficult test. Then she nodded slowly, paused and then scratched one word on the floor.

oOo

The world had just about stopped spinning when Hiccup was dropped on the floor in Dagur's main hall. He lay still for a long moment before warily lifting his eyes slightly. His hair had flopped across his face and he knew he was breathing hard with fear. He could hear Dagur pacing slowly around him and he took a shuddering breath. He had never trusted the Berserker and knew how cruel, calculated and sadistic he could be. And he had never felt comfortable with the crazed Berserker Chief: the taunts of the guards only alarmed him even more.

He knew he was small and weaker than the other teens. He was clumsy-Odin, how he was clumsy! He had caused more mayhem and chaos in the village than some of the dragon raids in his desperation to fight the ravaging reptiles. And he had been punished for his efforts: teased, ignored, ostracised, beaten up by the bullies and repeatedly scorned and rejected by his father. He also had only one leg now, the prosthesis clicking as he slowly pushed himself to his hands and knees. He stood precisely no chance of defending himself against the Berserker.

But he wasn't a coward-of that he was certain. He was foolhardy and determined, often reckless with his own safety when trying to make his Dad and his Tribe proud of him. He had faced the Red Death on Toothless and had destroyed the enormous dragon because it was going to annihilate his Tribe. He was fearless on his dragon, taking the greatest risks and chancing the most hazardous tricks. And he wasn't afraid of pain because his leg always hurt him now and the pain of rejection had been so awful that he would have died rather than face that again.

But then there was the whip. He shuddered again. His back was still excruciatingly tender and he knew-with shame and also with certainty-he would beg if Dagur showed him the whip again. But the alternative was possibly even worse. Dagur was thought to want to... He swallowed and lifted his bruised face, his eyes dark with fear. If the Berserker chose to abuse him, to whip him or even to kill him, there was scant little he could do in his defence. What would happen would happen. And then he took a jagged breath, his throat thick with fear.

He didn't want to die.

Dagur paced around the small shape, huddled on the floor. If possible, the runt looked even smaller, his shoulders hunched as if he was trying to shrink away. His clothes were stained with his blood and the sight made Dagur thrill with excitement. It was Hiccup's own fault, of course: he shouldn't have lied to Dagur or tried to conceal the dragon. And he certainly should have handed over the beast when Dagur demanded. Instead, he had resisted, even fought against Dagur and his treacherous lizard had blindsided Dagur when the Berserker should have finished him.

Except Dagur had never meant to kill Hiccup. He would have to be punished, cowed, his spirit broken and his sarcastic tongue curbed. Dagur had almost been panting with excitement at the last whipping, watching the boy bravely defy him as the lash had done him terrible harm. But he was scared: the flash of fear in the boy's enticing green eyes was a suitable reward for Dagur's efforts. Though he saw Hiccup alter his expression through sheer force of will and try to look brave. But Dagur knew.

His gaze lingered on the scrawny shape, the skinny arms and legs shaking. The boy was very pale, his little smattering of freckles the only real colour apart from the eyes and that mop of dark auburn hair. His frail little hands and the missing leg made him look vulnerable. He wasn't a real Viking, wasn't a warrior by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn't possibly imagine he deserved to be treated like a man, like any creature of worth. Dagur wanted the boy as his slave, subservient, skipping to his lazy commands, trembling in fear of his displeasure. He imagined him kneeling before Dagur with his head bowed, his naked shape still and awaiting his orders. Awaiting Dagur's touch.

And then he recalled the desperate, frantic struggles the boy had made as Dagur had begun hauling him here. The terrified scream. The pathetic look of disgust and horror in his face. And Dagur face fell into a cruel scowl. The runt would learn that he had to do what Dagur ordered. No matter how much it may hurt.

Hiccup saw Dagur inspecting him so closely he felt a flush rise in his cheeks. The look in the man's eyes was unfathomable and very unsettling. He suddenly felt dirty, ashamed and he felt himself begin to tremble. Dagur was very difficult to predict, suddenly flipping from calm to enraged and super-violent. The men reckoned that he was planning to abuse Hiccup and the boy was pretty sure they were right. He recalled the images from his nightmare and he swallowed vomit from his throat. He was pretty sure he'd barf if it happened but knew that would just make Dagur more mad.

"You know I'll get that dragon, one way or the other," Dagur said, standing in front of the boy. Hiccup lifted his chin, the brave facade back in place. The Berserker could see the tremble in his hands, the shiver in his battered shape and the red welts down his neck from his grip, the fingerprints visible on the pale flesh.

"No," Hiccup said simply.

"I can make you help me," Dagur said menacingly.

"You can try," Hiccup said softly. "Dagur, I won't hand Toothless over. He's my best friend. He's safe on Berk and I will give anything to keep him safe."

"I want that Night Fury!" Dagur raged.

"I want a nice fish stew and a ship back to Berk," Hiccup replied, though he flinched at the shout. Dagur jerked his hand and Savage strode forward, grabbing the boy by the hair and wrenching him to his feet. He grabbed the hem of his tunic and dragged it up over the boy's head. Hiccup gave a low cry in sudden anxiety and tried to pull away and Savage instantly snared his wrist brutally. Hiccup began to hyperventilate and began to try to twist his arm free but Savage grabbed the other one cruelly and the boy gasped in pain.

Dagur stared at Hiccup and his eyes roved carefully over the scrawny shape. He was even less impressive in the flesh, his toast rack chest and skinny arms with very small muscles only. There were a nice crop of bruises over his sides and chest from the various kicks and punches he had endured and his shoulders and back were scored with the angry red weals from the whip. He tried to cringe away from the inspection, flushing. As a rule, Vikings weren't especially self-conscious: in fact, most were completely unconcerned. But Hiccup was clearly extremely uncomfortable. Maybe the runt had suffered from so many taunts and scorning that he hated his own appearance. And maybe, maybe, he was scared of Dagur's hungry gaze.

Then he drew his knife. Hiccup's eyes widened and he tried even more desperately to pull away but his left hand was pressed down onto the table, his fingers splayed They flinched and his eyes stared up pleadingly at the Berserker. Dagur pressed the blade onto his wrist.

"How will you manage with one hand?" he asked matter-of-factly. Hiccup struggled more desperately. He was left-handed. He shook his head hopelessly.

"Please, Dagur...don't do this," he begged. "I-I will be of so little use to you if you take my hand. Please..." He was trembling all over and his voice was shaking. The Berserker sawed into the skin and Hiccup felt a line of fire across the wrist. He cried out in pain and saw the flash of red. There was blood on the blade. "PLEASE!"

Dagur stared at the ashen face, the terror satisfyingly bright in the boy's eyes. Savage was almost holding him up and his breath as starting to shudder through him. He could slice the hand off easily-Hiccup's wrists were so bony and narrow that Dagur reckoned he would only need to put his weight through the knife to take the hand off. But the prisoner was almost sobbing in terror now and tears slid down his face. He took the blade away. A deep slice was bleeding but the hand was still intact.

"I will be making use of you, runt, and if you use that hand as an excuse, it's gone!" Dagur hissed. Hiccup was trembling so hard he couldn't speak but Dagur nodded and Savage brutally turned the hand over, exposing the soft inner arm. Panicking, Hiccup struggled again and Dagur gave a nasty grin, his hand tightening around the cold flesh. Hiccup froze as the Berserker pushed his blade into the skin and Hiccup gave a satisfying scream as the knife moved, the tip flicking as the blade moved. Hiccup whimpered and gave a groan as the blood trickled from the vicious wound. The big stole a look at it: Dagur had carved the word 'slave' on his skin. He gave a choking sob.

But Dagur hadn't finished and with a nasty smile, he laid his knife down, then walked slowly over the the fire. Hiccup became abruptly aware there were swords and other pieces of metal sticking out of the flames. He swallowed fearfully and shook his head slightly. Dagur pulled on a thick leather gauntlet and grasped one.

"Looks like the little traitor is going to have something to belong to after all!" Savage sneered as Dagur deliberately walked over, the heated end glowing white-hot. Hiccup eyed the metal speechlessly. He had been apprenticed as a blacksmith since just after his eighth birthday and knew all about hot metal, burns and dealing with accidents. But this wasn't an accident. The shape Dagur was holding in front of him in white-hot metal was the Skrill, the Berserker tribe symbol.

"No!" he gasped. "Dagur-please! I am a Hooligan! You-you can't..."

"You are my slave," Dagur roared at him, his face suddenly menacing. "And like any beast, you should be branded by your owner." Hiccup gave a final, despairing struggle and then Savage held him still. Dagur held the brand close to his face and he went rigid, feeling the heat scorching his skin. He was trembling so hard that Savage had to dig his fingers harder into the boy's arms to keep him still.

"I am making you my brother as well," Dagur breathed, staring into the terrified face. Hiccup swallowed.

"You will never be my brother," he whispered.

Dagur slammed the brand onto his left shoulder. Hiccup screamed, his entire body going stiff at the pain. The sizzle and smell of burning flesh suddenly washed around the boy but his eyes were screwed shut, tears leaking down his agonised face. He was shuddering and still screaming. Finally, as he began to sag and his head was lolling, Dagur ripped the brand away and turned back to the fire.

Hiccup clawed at unconsciousness, wishing he could mercifully pass out, but the horrible sensations continued bombarding his shattered senses. The brand was gone but the pain remained, hideously burning and overwhelming everything else. He could tasted acid in his throat and he vomited, but Savage cruelly held him still, watching his pathetic heaves. He was shaking like a leaf. Savage finally dropped him and he folded to his knees, groaning,

"D-Doesn't...make...a d-difference," he breathed. "I am a Viking of Berk..." Dagur grabbed his hair and wrenched his head up, staring into the pinched face.

"Wrong! You are a slave and possession of the Berserker Tribe. Your tribe expelled you for treason. You tried to kill your father!" Dagur's words were screamed in his face and he flinched at each word, as if it were a blow. "You are MINE!" Hiccup lifted his chin slightly, shivering hard and shook his head.

"I will n-never be yours," he said quietly. "You-you can brand every inch of m-my b-body but I w-will never be a B-berserker!" And through the terror and dull, utter hopelessness, Dagur read the final shreds of his defiance. He had tortured him, he had threatened him, he had branded him-but he wasn't broken. He spun and punched the boy across the face, slamming him limply to the floor.

"But you belong to one," he growled to the unconscious shape.


	8. Truth or Forfeit

He awoke in the cell, still half-naked but, he reckoned muzzily, probably not raped yet. His back was still flashing pain from his whipping but it had faded in comparison to the brand, still burning insistently in his shoulder. He lifted his head and finally looked at the damage. The red, raw shape of the Skrill looked back at him and he moaned slightly. A grubby piece of cloth, stained with blood had been tied around the word sliced into his arm and he winced as he recalled what it had said. I should have known, he thought dully.

Then he saw a little pile of things by the door. His tunic was still grubby and tossed onto a folded blanket, a bowl of water and a folded bandage with a greasy ointment smeared on it.

Hauling his body across the floor because he knew for sure his legs wouldn't carry him, he pressed the bandage into the wound, wrapped the blanket around him and folded his tunic as a pillow. After a moment, he drank the water. He felt sick and couldn't have kept any food down but he knew he needed water. Then he curled back up to sleep. He no longer cared if he lived or died because Dagur was right: he had been cast out of his tribe and home. No one would look at him. He was probably lucky the Hooligans hadn't branded him as a traitor or executed him. But now he was a slave and marked as a Berserker.

He was never going home.

oOo

Stoick stared into the fire, his fist supporting his bearded chin. The mug was empty at his elbow and there was no one who would come and quietly refill it, no lopsided sound of foot and prosthesis as his son dutifully served his father then sat by the fire, his small face expectant. He shook himself.

He no longer had a son.

He had brutally disposed of all Hiccup's possessions, giving them away to anyone who wanted them. The teens had all taken a souvenir and Gobber had commandeered all of his papers, drawings and models: he had muttered something about trying to replicate his designs. Stoick didn't care, though. He just wanted all reminders of the traitor gone.

He had kept only one thing: the helmet he had made from Valka's breastplate for his son. It was a piece of his dead wife and he treasured it because of her, not him. What had he been thinking? The boy had always been trouble, hunting for trolls when he should have been fishing, disobeying his father to try his crazy inventions or try disastrously badly to fight dragons. Every thing Hiccup did was wrong, a disgrace to his father, his tribe and the Viking world in general.

Maybe Stoick should have been harder on him. Of course, he had always made his displeasure very evident, harshly shouted at the boy, scolded him and publicly humiliated him when the transgression was a disaster for the whole village, a depressingly frequent occurrence. The boy had trembled at the brutal condemnation and he had promised he would try harder-but with Hiccup, trying harder just seemed to mean screwing up even worse. Perhaps he should have raised his hand to the boy, perhaps even beaten him. Maybe that would have gotten through to the defiant lad.

Stoick had always wondered how he could father such a small son, so packed with defiance, disobedience and destructive tendencies (no matter how accidental). By Odin, his son should be the image of him: massive, single-minded and strong. Not such a...a runt!

Then he paused. That was word he had heard so often in relation to his son, frequently to the boy's face. Along with the epithet 'Useless.' Hiccup had heard himself denigrated and scorned by everyone, including the one person who should have loved him and protected him. And sometimes, Stoick imagined he had seen the boy wince or flinch at the cruel judgement. It was if the words really hurt him. But Vikings were tough, hard and self-reliant: the Chief could not defend a pathetic runt of a son. If he was to ever become Chief, Hiccup should have learned to be even better than his size suggested, not worse!

And of course, there had been dragon training: his lies, his deception, his reckless disregard for the safety of the village by hiding a dragon...Stoick had been humiliated beyond words by his son's betrayal and there had been only one punishment fitting his crime. Stoick had disowned him, thrown him from the tribe, taken everything from him. And even then, he had pleaded for his dragon over his own fate. Stoick had walked away before he had really lost his temper and killed the boy.

But despite his banishment, his utter disgrace, he had still come to the disaster on Dragon Island that he had tried to warn Stoick against, had led his riders to draw the enormous dragon away from the villagers and risked his life to defeat the beast. Stoick had been proud of him then, though the boy had paid a terrible price for his courage. He could still recall the slight, limp shape in his arms, the faint pitter-patter of his heart that told his father it wasn't too late. And Stoick had tried to be a better father to the awkward and hesitant boy who had tried very hard to be the son he wanted.

He no longer had a son.

Stoick had felt his heart slam shut at the proof of the treason and he had been disgusted at the boy's pathetic mewling as he was confronted with evidence of his crimes. He would have felt a final twinge of satisfaction if the boy had taken it as a man, not a coward. It was the only time he had seen his son weep. Maybe once, when he was a very young boy, but a Viking son knew better than to cry and come to his father for comfort, especially if that father was the great Chief, Stoick. He hadn't wept when he lost his leg, or when he had been disowned. He had never broken with the scoldings and punishments his father had meted out to him. And he hadn't cried either as the older boys had beaten him up repeatedly almost until he started dragon training. The boy was quietly resilient.

He shook himself then looked up at Gobber, who was standing in the doorway.

"It's time, Gobber," he said gruffly. "Send for Spitelout and his son. It's time I officially named the boy as my heir."

oOo

They left Hiccup all that day and all the next. He was cold and in pain and dreading his next encounter with either Savage or Dagur. But Mildew was his jailer and he found himself grateful that the man was just his usual unpleasant self. He was delivered water, dry bread and a fresh poultice for his brand.

"Yer really should've kept yer mouth shut, 'Iccup," Mildew had told him in that snide voice. "I thought Dagur was going to do it but he was always wanting to brand yer as his own first. Now yer really don't have any rights at all."

"Like I did before?" Hiccup rasped hoarsely. He hadn't screamed that much ever and his throat was really sore. He warily drank the water but it didn't ease his throat much.

"Now 'e's yer Chief," Mildew explained unnecessarily.

"According to you, I tried to kill my last Chief," Hiccup shot back.

"And 'e'll kill yer if you annoy 'im," Mildew reminded him. He leaned closer. "I don't think Dagur's the most stable, if yer get me meaning?" Hiccup quietly pressed the new bandage onto the vicious brand and stared at the floor.

"Now that's a surprise," he murmured.

"Yer see? That's what I mean! That's why yer here, branded and whipped and I'm in a nice cosy cottage..." Hiccup cast him a sharp look.

"There is only one traitor here and it isn't me," Hiccup said quietly. He moved his shoulder slightly. "I am no traitor. I am not a coward. I am innocent."

"No one's innocent, boy," Mildew snapped. "I seem to remember yer was disowned by the Chief, thrown out of the Tribe and banished. Yer never did what yer was told. A lot of us lost 'omes because of yer stupid disobedience!"

"What do you mean us?" Hiccup shot back. "You were so unpopular that built you a house the other side of the entire mountain because no one wanted you in the village!"

"And no one wants yer now either, boy!" Mildew hissed back. Hiccup recoiled and the fight sagged out of him. He tenderly rested a hand on the bandaged burn.

"One person does," he said faintly. "Thor, I don't know what I've done to deserve this. But don't let me break. Please, if nothing else, don't let me break." Mildew stared at him and his hand tightened around his staff. He was a loner and a dragon-hunter. He knew not all courage was brash and loud and involved wielding two battle-axes while running screaming at fifty enemies. Sometimes, enduring a nightmare with your soul intact was the greatest test of courage a man could face. And by that reckoning, the boy was brave.

"The trick, I think, is not letting 'im know yer 'aven't broken," he said thoughtfully. "No matter what 'e does to yer, no matter 'ow bad it gets, learn 'ow to bow yer 'ead and keep quiet, boy. If yer want to get away, yer need to be alive." Hiccup nodded, swallowing suddenly. He seemed on the verge of tears, but he stared up at the old man.

"Thanks, Mildew," he said softly. The old man turned away, not wanting to accept what he had just done.

"I'm still expecting me wager to come up," he told the boy ominously.

oOo

His eyes snapped open as he felt the hand grab his arm. He screamed and struggled as Savage wrenched him up. The Outcast leader was eyeing him especially unpleasantly and he sagged, breathing hard.

"Top-top of the morning!" he attempted with forced levity. Savage lurched closer, so Hiccup could smell his foul breath.

"Break's over, boy," he hissed. "Time you stared to earn your keep again!" Hiccup took a quick breath, steeling himself for another exhausting day. He had been toiling as a slave for over a week now though he had been carefully marshalled to prevent escape.

"Yard messed up again?" he asked. Savage threw him across the cell, towards the door, then grabbed him by the back of the tunic and slammed him against the wall. He pressed the boy back so he was almost crushed between the man and the rocky wall and slowly began to stroke his hand over the boy's shoulder and neck. Hiccup went rigid, the trapped look in his eyes flaring bright. Savage leaned so close Hiccup could feel his hair brush his cheek.

"You know there are almost no women on Outcast Island?" he breathed. "There are a lot of very frustrated Outcasts who have their eye on you."

"Lucky m-me," Hiccup forced himself to say. He knew he was doing a crappy job at appearing brave but he had to try. Savage gently stroked the boy's waist and thigh. Hiccup began to tremble.

"But I'm not one of them," the Outcast said after a sadistically long moment in which Hiccup imagined a score of horrific scenarios. "Yet." His hand tightened cruelly round the boy's left arm and dragged him out of the cell. "I'm taking you to someone who is!"

He didn't resist as Savage hauled him through the dungeons, but instead of heading to Dagur's hall, he took the boy out of one of the gates and across the yard. The cool wind caressed his ashen cheek and and he shivered. But Savage was moving fast, dragging the boy through the village and down the docks. He stumbled, his prosthesis sliding on the slick, rain-drenched streets. And then Hiccup's eyes widened in dismay. Dagur's flagship was moored at the dock, obviously prepared to sail. The rest of the Armada was already assembled off-shore, their Skrill-emblazoned sails flapping in the breeze. He was shoved roughly aboard and froze as the armoured shape talking to the captain turned.

"About time," Dagur said, a trifle impatiently. "I don't expect to be kept waiting by my slave!" Hiccup forced himself to smile.

"Sorry, the invite missed the time off," he offered and earned a heavy cuff to the head for his bravado, stars flashing in front of his eyes. He winced.

"My Berserkers speak to me only when commanded to do so!" Dagur's tone was freezing and Hiccup briefly debated if he should reply to that but Mildew's words echoed in his memory. He dropped his eyes and said nothing. Savage grabbed his arm and hauled him back as the gang-plank was taken up and the ship pushed away from the dock. The sail flapped as they tacked out to join the Armada. Dagur finished giving his orders to the captain, then turned to the boy, his eyes calculating.

"I'm taking the Armada out for a spin and I thought we could play a little game, Hiccup," Dagur announced. The boy was uncomfortably aware that Savage was holding his arm tightly to keep him still and the Captain and the rest of the Berserkers were all within earshot and watching interestedly. They all knew that if Dagur was concentrating on another poor unfortunate, he wouldn't be paying so much of his deranged attention to them. All Hiccup knew was that whatever Dagur planned to do to him, it was going to be public.

"Charades? I spy?" Hiccup suggested and Savage's fingers dug brutally into his arm. He tensed for another blow. But Dagur gave a nasty grin.

"Truth or dare," he said. "Berserker style, of course."

"Of course," Hiccup murmured.

"It's more...truth or forfeit," Dagur conceded, pacing back and forth. He shrugged. "Could never see the point of giving the victim a choice, hmm?"

"What-what would be the fun in that, right?" Hiccup said dryly. Dagur turned to face him and there was a proud smile on his crazed face.

"You see-you're almost a Berserker already!" he said happily. Hiccup bit back his instinctive response but silently clenched his fists.

I am a Viking of Berk.

Savage shook him and he swallowed once. Dagur stared at him then smiled reassuringly. "I'll start with an easy one first," he said and Hiccup stared into the face, seeing cold calculation in his eyes. "How many catapults are there in the lower defences covering the harbour of Berk?" Hiccup paused then shrugged.

"One or two?" he suggested. Dagur backhanded him brutally and he slammed back against Savage, his head spinning.

"Uh-huh. WRONG! It's twelve!" he shouted at the boy and nodded to Savage. In a swift movement, the Outcast leader dragged his tunic off, leaving him shivering, half-naked on the cold deck. Savage grabbed his arm again. "There. It's simple enough. You answer truthfully or you pay a forfeit. And the forfeits get harsher as the game goes on." Hiccup tried to cringe back from the man, shivering.

"You-you know I-I can't betray Berk," he stammered. Dagur grabbed his left arm, then slid his hand sensuously over the naked shoulder.

"Here's an easy one," he said and slid his fingers over the angry brand. "Does this hurt?" Hiccup stared at the floor, his throat working urgently.

"Yes," he whispered, preparing for a surge of pain from the wound but Dagur just stroked his cheek tenderly.

"There. You see? You can tell the truth if you try!" he soothed the boy. Hiccup closed his eyes.

"Y-yes, m-master," he mumbled, hating himself.

I am not a slave. I am not a coward.

"Here's another easy one," Dagur continued, his tone encouraging. "How many guards routinely patrol the harbour and town at night?" Hiccup glanced up and felt his stomach tighten in fear.

"About forty? Fifty?" he said, the tone uncertain. He was sure it was less but there was no way he would ever offer his best guess.

I am not a traitor.

"Really? REALLY?" Dagur shouted at him. He nodded to Savage and the man spun Hiccup round, grabbing his upper arms to hold him still. Hiccup saw the nasty smile and began to tremble as he heard the whip crack behind him.

"Dagur! Please!" he begged. "I-I have done my best! I-I never counted them, just knew they were-were always there. Please...I'm not lying!"

The Berserker slapped the whip hard across the boy's scored back and was rewarded by a desperate scream.

"Of course you are!" he hissed. "No 'Master' this time. Liar!" And he whipped the boy again. Stonily, the rest of the crew watched in silence. Dagur satisfied himself with half a dozen blows, because whipping the boy senseless would deprive him of his game. So he lowered the whip as Hiccup sagged, tears streaking his pallid cheeks. Dagur nodded as the shuddering boy was turned back to face him. "No smart come-back?" he sneered. Hiccup took a pained breath.

"Give...give me a m-moment," he gasped. Dagur stroked the tear-streaked face, then licked his fingers tasting the boy's tears. He gently ran his fingers though the dishevelled auburn hair, then closed his hand and wrenched the head up.

"I told you the forfeits get harder," he told the trembling boy.

"And you-you know I c-can't help you attack Berk," Hiccup whispered painfully. "T-toothless is there and I-I can't risk him..."

I am not a traitor. I am not a traitor.

"I want that Night Fury!" Dagur told him coldly.

"Then-then you might as well carry on whipping m-me," Hiccup said wearily. Dagur leaned close to him and nuzzled against the boy's face. Hiccup went rigid.

"Truth," Dagur murmured sensually in his ear. "But one day soon, you will be begging me to follow your plan to kill the Night Fury." Hiccup closed his eyes. "Lost your tongue?" Dagur taunted him. He swallowed as Dagur insistently stroked his shoulder and neck, his fingers lingering in the hollow of his throat and then he bent forward and kissed the boy on the cheek.

"You want this, too," he murmured. Hiccup was trembling hard, his eyes screwed closed. Savage felt the instinctive attempt to pull away.

"No," he breathed. Dagur's hand suddenly closed ferociously on the livid burn and Hiccup gasped in pain, shudders running through him. Tears trickled down his cheeks.

"If I say you'd do, then you want this!" Dagur shouted at him. He flinched.

"Truth," he whimpered, still writhing at the ferocious grasp on his burn. "I-I'm telling the t-truth!"

Dagur shoved him back, let go and then bent down to retrieve his whip. Hiccup froze until the man coiled it up and hung it from his belt. He turned to Hiccup.

"Do you know which way we're heading?" he asked abruptly, his tone cold. Hiccup swallowed.

"Home," he said quietly. Savage cuffed him brutally again and he slammed to his knees. His head was spinning and vision smeared with stars. He forced the word out."Berk." Dagur stared down on him scornfully.

"Berk," he confirmed. "But your ingratitude angers me. You are my slave, a Berserker possession. Home is where I am, not where you were expelled from for treason!" Hiccup bowed his head and stared at the deck, his throat working rhythmically. Dagur snatched a handful of hair and saw what he was expecting: tears streaming over the bruised features. So he shoved the boy onto his face and impatiently tapped his foot on the floor.

"Kiss my boots," he said grimly, watching the boy carefully. This had been another favourite fantasy of the Berserker Chief and he felt a thrill of excitement run through him as the battered shape wearily moved forward and the auburn head dipped. Hiccup pressed his bruised lips to the dirty leather, then warily moved his head and kissed the other boot. Dagur chuckled in delight.

"You see? When you obey your master, it's so much easier!" he told the boy, before snapping his fingers and watching the boy very painfully lever himself to his knees again. "In fact, you have earned a reward!" he added ambiguously, then leaned forward and stared at the downcast face. He pulled the boy to his feet and stroked the bruised face. Hiccup shuddered. With a satisfied smile, Dagur tenderly laid his hand on the boy's right shoulder, his other hand tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his neck, then sliding over the skinny chest and narrow waist. He gave a slight smile as his touch slithered lower, down to the boy's thigh and back up the inner thigh, lingering indecently between his legs.

"Truth or forfeit," he murmured, leaning very close to Hiccup. "Which are you going to do? Our choice of course is yours. Either we head to Berk and my Armada crushes the Hooligans. Or you tell me where you hid my Skrill!" Hiccup jerked and his eyes snapped open.

"All-all this...to find your Skrill?" he gasped. Dagur's hands were making him want to cringe away but he knew that would enrage the Berserker beyond reason. He had to survive. He had to get free. He had to get to Toothless.

I am not a traitor.

But does giving him the Skrill just amount to the same thing?

Thor, please help me.

"I want my Skrill back," Dagur murmured in his ear. "You stole it from me. Now you are my slave. Take me to it and I will spare your tribe." Hiccup flinched, the words of his nightmare echoing back. Then he shook his head.

"No, you promise to save the Hooligan Tribe," he said evenly. Dagur's eyes snapped open and he kissed the boy on the nose.

"Now there's the Hiccup I knew," he smiled. "Very clever for a one-legged runt." He nodded to Savage. "Bring him to my cabin. We can continue the game...in private." Hiccup gave him a despairing look but the Outcast gave a low chuckle and hauled the boy down the stairs to below decks. He had been looking forward to seeing this since Hiccup came to Outcast Island. Dagur glanced around his crew. "Don't disturb me!" he warned. "I've been waiting for this for a long time..."


	9. So Close

Toothless burst from his cage when Astrid walked into the the arena. He was howling and his eyes were suddenly bright, focussed. He wolfed a huge breakfast and half of Hookfang's and the Monstrous Nightmare stood back and let him. Snotlout frowned: his dragon was very protective of his food but the Night Fury was suddenly fired with purpose and none of the dragons would argue with him. Then he bounded into his cage and nudged his saddle towards Astrid. He wanted to go flying.

Even though Hiccup had made a real point of making sure that Astrid knew how to work Toothless's tail, she felt really apprehensive about climbing into the saddle and resting her foot on the control pedal. Toothless was Hiccup's: they were a pair, bonded more tightly than any other pair in the Academy. They had an almost unconscious understanding underpinned by a boundless well of love. Hiccup would do anything for his dragon and Astrid was pretty sure that the Night Fury would do the same. She grasped the front of the saddle and leaned forward as Toothless bunched his muscles. She pressed her heel down and the tail opened.

"OK, Toothless-let's do this!" she said as they arrowed up into the sky.

She almost felt breathless at the speed of climb: it was easy to forget how extreme the Night Fury's flight could be when Hiccup usually tempered his flights so effortlessly to match the capabilities of his friends. He was kind and generous, always ensuring that everyone was included. And he just loved flying. So did Toothless, which showed how desperately the dragon missed his friend to refuse to fly. So what had happened now to change that?

Just as suddenly, Toothless levelled out, his huge bat-like wings extending fully to caress the breeze and they soared above the cliffs and sea stacks. He was crooning and Astrid found herself smiling. Her first flight on the dragon had been terrifying as the dragon had taken enormous exception to her very rough treatment of Hiccup before she had uncovered the dragon. But ever since, the dragon had decided she was a friend of Hiccup and he had tolerated and greeted her. He took a couple of lazy flaps of his wings and then banked, arrowing out to sea in the direction Hiccup had been exiled. Astrid tugged on the saddle.

"Toothless, I know you want to find Hiccup," she told him gently, "but we can't go to Outcast Island. Not until we have some proof that he is innocent. Otherwise, he could be executed for returning."

The dragon gave a grumbling little growl, his wide green eyes fixed on the horizon. Then he growled fiercely, the sound vibrating through his entire body. Astrid peered over and her eyes widened.

A Berserker Armada was heading for Berk.

Rapidly, she counted thirty ships, all armed and laden with men. It wasn't Dagur's whole force but more than enough to cause serious trouble for the Hooligans. She pulled harder on the saddle.

"We have to get back to Berk!" she said urgently. "Toothless! We have to warn them. We have to get the riders ready and defences manned. Toothless! You know it's what Hiccup would want you to do!"

Toothless circled tightly above the lead ship and roared and roared, the sound filling the sky. Every eye suddenly jerked upwards and Astrid was alarmed as catapults trained on them. She wasn't as adept at handling Toothless in evasive manoeuvres: even Hiccup struggled sometimes to control the dodging dragon.

"Toothless! We have to go-NOW!" she shouted as the first missile whistled past them. Toothless gave one last, plaintive roar, then turned almost on a wingtip and accelerated furiously back towards the jagged silhouette of Berk.

oOo

Hiccup curled up tighter, a small huddle of battered, burnt and bruised flesh shuddering with pained sobs. His arms were wrapped around his legs and his face was buried in his knees. His shoulders were jerking with his misery. They had taken everything from him: his tribe, his freedom, even... He shuddered and tears slid down his battered face.

Dagur had raped him.

He had known in his heart that the point of Truth or Forfeit was to 'allow' Dagur to have sex with Hiccup: the only question was whether it was to be in private or in front of the entire ship's company. It was never going to be consensual. At least Dagur had chosen the private route-so far. His small cabin had been well-equipped to provide Dagur with all the toys and implements he needed to tame the boy and turn him into a personal slave, his slut. And by Thor, he had been determined to break Hiccup.

He buried his face further in to his knees. Dagur had plainly been sexually attracted to Hiccup for years-one of the reasons why Hiccup had always felt so uncomfortable with the Berserker. He had always feared the man would jump him. Finally he had. All the ridiculous business about howling together and calling him brother had just sent every alarm bell ringing. He was astonished the Berserker had lasted as long as he had before finally doing the deed.

He winced and felt a deep groan of misery well in his throat. Dagur had a raging libido and was profoundly sadistic: neither quality had granted Hiccup any hope of mercy. He squeezed his eyes tighter shut. Once he had dispensed with the game, he had mounted the struggling Hiccup brutally and efficiently, forcing himself violently into the smaller boy. Hiccup had tried to swallow his screams but he was painfully aware he had miserably failed and that everyone on the ship had known as it had gone down.

Hiccup had chewed his lips bloody, his jaw ached from clenching it against the abuse and his palms were scored by his nails as he had endured the savage rape. Dagur had compounded his injuries and gleefully added to them during the marathon session they had just ended. He curled up tighter. He was trying to ignore the myriad of protests from his abused body but Dagur's threats had started to get to him and he could still hear the words, rolling around in his memory. The one worrying him most was the last one Dagur had sneered at him as he had ruthlessly taken the boy for the third time. The deranged Berserker had hinted that he was going to treat his men to a public show-though the boy was fervently praying that meant Dagur alone and not a free-for-all. But it had been agonising and nauseating and hateful and utterly demeaning. Hiccup already knew his father would disown him for being raped, even if his innocence was proven, because no true Viking would be used like a woman. And his weak and scrawny son was already three-quarters the way to being considered too unViking-like to tolerate. Being raped would finish him off. Astrid would never look at him, except with pity and disgust. No woman would ever want him. Even if he wasn't a slave, bound as a servant to Dagur.

And then he stiffened. He could hear the roar of the Night Fury. He raised his bruised, tear-soaked face and scrambled urgently to his feet, ignoring the pain every movement caused. His legs almost buckled and the while lower half if his body felt like a thousand knives were stabbing him. He swallowed and forced his legs straight by sheer force of will. He was naked and wounded but he ran on his wobbly legs to the door of the cabin, dashing on his hands and feet up the steep ladder and making the deck as he saw a catapult fire. He was breathing so hard it almost hurt as he stumbled forward on the pitching deck. He stared up desperately and saw a sight that had his heart beating so hard he thought it would burst through his chest.

The black shape of Toothless was arrowing back towards distant Berk at full speed, dodging catapult stones and arrows.

"TOOTHLESS!" he shouted. "TOOTHLESS!"

But the dragon sped away, vanishing into the misty air and Hiccup stared after his dragon, breathing hard and trying not to cry. The misery that his friend hadn't heard him, hadn't swooped down to rescue him was tempered with the relief from a fear he hadn't even realised he was carrying: Toothless was alive. Alive! And then it registered. Despite his decision, his actions, his sacrifice, they were still heading for Berk.

Abruptly, he realised he was naked and shivering on the deck. He swallowed hard and a rough hand grabbed his arm. He was jerked around to face Savage and reality crashed around him once more. He cringed but the Outcast grabbed his hair as well and forced the boy to stiffen in pain.

"Dagur hasn't finished with you yet, boy," he leered. Hiccup faced him, his legs buckling.

"Why are we still heading for Berk?" he asked directly. "I gave you a new course." Savage tugged his hair harder.

"I don't think he's sure you're telling the truth," he said cruelly, hauling the boy back down the steps. Hiccup stumbled and almost fell, held up only by the vicious grasp on his arm. He could feel more bruises forming as the man all but dragged him back. "He wants to ask you more questions to find out." He was laughing cruelly. "Truth or forfeit, remember? I really want to see what forfeit he forces you to do next!"

Hiccup took a shuddering breath. He was cringing inwardly and his stomach was fluttering with anxiety. He was scared as well because Dagur was merciless. And he was utterly at his mercy. But seeing Toothless gave him the tiniest shred of hope and that reignited his determination.

I am not a traitor.

"If he attacks Berk, he'll never get that Skrill," Hiccup said with quiet determination. "Ask him if he thinks that's the truth?" Savage pulled his his head back and inspected the suddenly determined face.

"I'll tell him," he said, "but whether he'll believe you is another matter. He prefers actions to words." Hiccup breathed harder.

"Turn north," he said firmly. "Do it now!" Savage leaned closer to the boy.

"You don't order me, boy," he hissed. "You've already lost me a bet to Mildew: don't make me remember that you are also an Outcast." He wrenched the boy forward and back into the cabin. Hiccup slammed to his knees as Dagur walked over to stare down at him. Hiccup stared determinedly at the deck, beginning to tremble again.

"I think we have unfinished business," he said.


	10. Evidence

Fishlegs was still experimenting with burn marks when Astrid came screaming back on Toothless, shouting about a Berserker attack. The others had scrambled and the larger boy laid his chart down with a sigh. He wished Hiccup was there because the boy was the best artist and draftsman among the Riders. They managed to get Toothless-who was disconsolate-to blast the arena floor and all the other dragons had been persuaded to produce burn marks. But none could approximate the Night Fury...even with Fishlegs' rather shaky diagrams.

Then he joined the others and they headed out in the direction Astrid reported. Toothkess was left behind, watching them with a plaintive groan as the flew off in tight formation. He could the creak of the catapults being loaded as they soared over the cliffs and out over the sea.

Snotlout was grumbling and making snide comments but Fishlegs frowned. There was an Armada but it seemed to be teaching north, skirting Berk and heading into the icy northern waters. The twins were whooping and beefing to attack but Fishlegs knew that they would obey: in a fight, they could be relied on.

They followed Armada north for a couple of hours until they were passing the northern tip of the island and well away from the village before they turned back. Snotlout was really whinging now.

"Well, that was total waste of time!" he sneered. Astrid jerked her head to glare at him from Stormfly.

"What did you say?" she demanded in an arctic voice.

"Well, they clearly weren't heading for Berk!" he scoffed.

"They were!" Astrid hissed. "Directly for the harbour. Toothless was desperate, howling and struggling to get at them..." And then she gasped.

"What?" Fishlegs asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Toothless is a Night Fury," she breathed. "And they have an excellent sense of smell. Thor...it can't be, can it?"

"What? Does anything you say make any sense?" Ruffnut complained.

"Hiccup!" Astrid gasped. "He's on the leading ship! That's what Toothless was trying to tell me!" And she immediately made to turn Stormfly back after the retreating boats.

"Wait!" Fishlegs shouted. "Astrid! You can't fight an entire Armada to get Hiccup!"

"Yeah-and if he's down there with Dagur, he's a traitor, right?" Tuffnut called back. Astrid glared at him and her grasp on her axe tightened.

"The Outcasts and the Berserkers have an alliance," she reminded them, thinking hard. "Once Alvin was gone, Savage decided working with Dagur was preferable to joining Alvin in Valhalla."

"You think Savage handed Hiccup over to Dagur?" Fishlegs asked. They all paused for a moment and recalled how much animosity Dagur bore Hiccup, how battered and injured he had been after every visit of the Berserkers for their Treaty signing. How he never complained to his father because he did not want to jeopardise the security of the village. How much he feared every visit.

"So isn't that where Hiccup wants to be? With his old pal, Dagur?" Tuffnut asked.

"Anywhere but," Astrid said sadly. "Dagur has never been his friend."

"Babe, you gotta face facts," Snotlout told her softly. "No matter what we find, Stoick isn't ever letting him come home. He's given all his things away and he's named me as his heir." He looked a bit embarrassed.

"So that's it?" Astrid shouted, her eyes suddenly shining. "We just abandon him to Dagur. We all know Dagur will make his life horrible-until he runs out of patience and kills Hiccup! He wouldn't ever give up on us. Ruff, Tuff-when they threatened to kill Barf and Belch, Hiccup was the one who got you over your argument and came up with the plan that saved your dragon. Snotlout, when you got marooned on Outcast Island, Hiccup came through for you..."

"Actually, Toothless and I saved him from Alvin," the boy said cockily. "He was captured by Alvin and we all know that Alvin would have beaten the crap out of him!"

"You flew off on your own and he went after you. He saved your life when the storm ripped you off Hookfang and he ended up marooned for his efforts!" Astrid shot back. Snotlout scowled.

"Fine," he conceded unwillingly.

"And in Thawfest..."

"Don't go there!" Snotlout snapped.

"Fishlegs, Hiccup shares everything he knows with you, doesn't he?" Astrid persisted. "He never makes you feel as if you're not one of us..." The larger boy gave a watery smile. There had been one instance which Hiccup had apologised humbly for but he had more than made up with his stout defence of his friend against Snotlout and the twins, who usually teased him. Even though no one had defended him-or even spoken to him- for all those years before he succeeded in Dragon Training.

"I know," he said.

"And he risked his life when all our dragons were sick with Blue Oleander poisoning!" she added.

"Hey-Toothless was sick too!"

"But he was the only one of us who went to get the Scauldron venom for them all," Astrid said softly.

"But the burn pattern..."

"Look, it has to be a fake," Astrid said passionately. "Toothless never misses. And have you ever seen Hiccup allow Toothless to kill anything?"

"Except Alvin and that Skrill?" Snotlout pointed out.

"He even stopped Toothless killing the Whispering Death! He would never harm his Dad!" Fishlegs sighed.

"OK," he sighed. "Il continue my research!"

But he was still dubious as he returned and tossed Meatlug a tasty bucket of shale and slate. The big Gronckle munched away loudly, and then paused to give Toothless a little nuzzle. The disconsolate Night Fury was curled by his friend and Fishlegs wondered how sad he would be if he had the chance to get Meatlug back, but someone had forced him to go the other way and leave her in danger.

"It'll be okay, Toothless," he said gently and patted the Night Fury. "We will get him back..." And then the dragon growled as a pair of squabbling Terrible Terrors flapped overhead and began a fierce little fight. Fishlegs watched interestedly as they exchanged shots at each other. It was only when they rolled and fired together that the boy straightened up and dropped the last little chunk of marble. He leaned forward and his eyes widened. The mark they had made was close enough to a genuine Night Fury burn to fool even an expert.

He jumped onto Meatlug and rode up to the top of the village and inspected the original burn. And then he gasped. It was a fake! He turned to Meatlug.

"Come on, girl-we need to get to Astrid!"

oOo

The lamps lit the frosty night and everyone who could get a berth below was sleeping in hammocks or curled on the shifting floor. Hiccup was curled as small as he could manage against the hull on the deck, the thin blanket they had given him wrapped tightly around him. He was shivering hard, his eyes fixed on the Skrill's-head prow, silhouetted against the star-filled sky. His breath was forming little clouds as he breathed and he lifted the edge of the blanket to pull it wearily across his face.

They had allowed him to dress once Dagur had finally wearied of his game and had headed north in the direction of the ice-swathed isle where Hiccup and the twins had entombed the Skrill. His shoulder was still hurting ferociously and and he concentrated on the pain. It was far better than rerunning anything that had befallen him since he came to Outcast Island and the most recent pain that had torn through him. He buried his face in his knees and his scored shoulders jerked as he sobbed. He thought he had run out of tears, but somehow, Dagur and Savage always managed to heap some new disaster upon his skinny shoulders.

I am not a traitor.

He blinked and hunched his shoulders against the misery. But I am a slave, he admitted desperately. I have been exiled from Berk. My father has disowned me. My friends have abandoned me. My tribe is lost. And Dagur is going to break his word and attack Berk anyway.

But Toothless is alive.

The lump in his throat was so huge he could barely breathe. He whimpered and swallowed his sobbing breath. "Toothless," he breathed.

"Get out of the way!" a voice growled just as a boot slammed into his back. He cried out and was pitched into his face, sprawling onto the frosty deck. He glanced up in shock at the Berserker guard standing over him. He knew he hadn't been in anyone's way, huddled carefully in a corner.

"S-sorry," he breathed, shocked. But the man grabbed him by the hair and slammed a fist across his face. He hit the deck with low cry, tasting blood in his mouth. He shook his head, painfully pushing himself to his knees and trying to get his breath back. A boot slammed into his middle and he was tossed halfway across the deck by the vicious impact. He grunted on the impact and cast the man a shocked glance. Then he rolled painfully, trying to crawl away but the man snatched a handful of tunic and dragged him up to face him.

"You don't speak to me, slave!" he snarled and Hiccup flinched. He nodded wordlessly. The man threw him brutally across the deck and his left leg instinctively went down, the metal prosthesis sliding on the frosty deck planks. He overbalanced backward and slammed down onto the deck, his back taking the brunt of the impact. He cried out then, arching his back and rolling stiffly onto his side. He pressed his face to the deck. The Berserker advanced in him but another man caught his hand.

"He's Dagur's, remember?" he reminded the man in a low voice. "You damage him and he'll toss you to the Scauldrons!"

"He's a slave!" the Berserker snarled. His friend nodded.

"Yes, but he's a young boy and I doubt he could withstand a beating from you, Aardo!" he pointed out. "Take your break. I'll call you when it's my turn!" Aardo went below deck, grumbling as the Berserker watched him, then turned to the scrawny shape, shaking as he painfully scrambled up. His bruised face was fearful. The new Berserker crouched by him and handed Hiccup his blanket.

"Easy, lad," he said quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder. Hiccup went rigid, his eyes widening and his terror obvious. "I don't mean you any harm." Hiccup was shaking like a leaf, almost unable to grasp his blanket due the shaking.

"F-forgive me if-if I c-can't b-b-believe you!" he shivered. The man's hazel eyes were kindly as he wrapped the blanket tightly round the boy and drew him close to the little brazier.

"I have a wife and boy about your age," he said gently. "I'm really not planning to hurt you." Hiccup dropped his head. He shook his head slowly.

"I j-just want-want to go home," he whispered brokenly. His eyes were shining with tears and the man sighed: he was Berserker but that didn't mean he couldn't be moved by a frightened boy. There was precious little he could do to help, though. He found his flask and pressed it to the boy's lips.

"Drink this," he said. Hiccup coughed and made a face but the man forced more down his throat. "It's mulled mead. It'll warm you...and may dull the memories." The boy's head dropped.

"Nothing will do that," he murmured.

And then his head jerked up and he frowned, pulling the blanket down from covering his head. A piercing screech sounded again, faint but closing. Hiccup scrambled to his feet. He gave the man a worried look.

"Changewings," he said suddenly, his battered face creasing into a frown. "But we're nowhere near Changewing Island. What's going on?" He looked up at the man as the screeches sounded again, definitely closing. "I think you need to rouse the Warriors," he added quietly, ducking his head as if expecting a blow for his advice. The Berserker nodded.

"Roar," he said. "My name is Roar." Then he slammed his spear into the deck and bellowed the alarm. Hiccup pressed himself against the mast, trying to stay out of everyone's way as the Berserkers exploded up into the deck and shouts of warning rang out from ship to ship. Dagur ran onto the deck, his helmet in place and axe griped in his fist. Hiccup stared at the deck because the sight of Dagur was turning his stomach. There were shapes against the brilliant stars and Hiccup pointed up at them.

"Changewing attack!" he shouted. "Keep them in the air. They can't camouflage against the sky but if they land, you can lose them!"

There was a sudden silence as Dagur strode forward. His face was locked in a menacing scowl and the boy sudden felt the panic rise in his throat. It had been instinctive, taking command of a dragon situation. For a brief but costly second, he had forgotten everything that had happened.

"Dagur-please!" he shouted. "You're all in danger! You can't let them land!" He took a couple of paces towards the Berserker Chief. "Truth." he said clearly. "Please, trust me." He paused. "Master." Dagur lifted his axe.

"Destroy them in the air. Don't let them land!" Dagur shouted and a blizzard of catapult stones and arrows soared towards the silhouettes of the ChangeWings. There were hisses and shrieks and gouts of greenish hot acid, melting stones and splashing at the sails. Hiccup shrank back as the pitched battle raged for a few long and tense minutes, but eventually, the attackers were beaten back. The boy breathed a sigh of relief as they turned and flew into the night. He sighed in relief.

And gave a small scream as a very rough hand closed fiercely on his branded left shoulder. He froze, trembling as someone leaned towards him. "You know I can't let that pass," Dagur breathed in his ear. "You just can't remember you are a slave."

"So you wanted me to let you lose men and ships when I could prevent it?" Hiccup asked softly. The grip tightened and he knew that Dagur's deranged view of life prized his own dignity above the lives of his men. Dagur shoved him forward and jerked his head. The boy was slammed against the mast, his wrists roped tightly as he hugged the uneven wood. A tight rope was looped around his knees as well, holding him unable to move.

"Slave, you need to learn your place," he hissed. The boy's shoulders slumped, biting his lip urgently to suppress his sobs. He was trembling all over.

"Dagur...Master...please," he begged softly. "I-I only wanted to save lives!" Dagur gestured and Savage appeared with a whip.

"A Berserker lives for battle and death!" Dagur announced in a sing-song voice. "He doesn't whine or agonise over a few deaths!"

I am not a Berserker.

"P-p-please," he gasped, shuddering breaths shaking through him. The crew was forming a lose circle around the boy. Savage took a couple of steps back and Hiccup gave a choking sob. "This isn't fair!" he whimpered.

"No," Dagur said clearly as the first blow fell. "But it should be instructive."


	11. No Mercy

They sighted the island by the middle of the next day, when Hiccup was still lying swathed in his patched blanket, recovering from his whipping. Roar had cut the boy down a couple of hours after the beating had ended, arguing not unreasonably that the boy had saved their lives and that leaving him exposed to the cold would probably kill him. The Captain-Vorg-had agreed, knowing his duty was to ensure what Dagur needed happened, and Dagur needed the boy alive.

Roar stared at the ashen face, his fresh bruising on his gaunt features pitiful. He was hunched and the Berserker had read a horrific tale of abuse. He tucked the boy tighter in the blanket. Sometimes, he was ashamed of his Tribe. Gently, he shook the boy's huddled shape until his eyes opened. "Shh!" he said quickly as the boy stirred, his eyes widening in fear. "You don't want to anger Dagur, do you?"

The tiny, ashamed shake of the head told everything. Hiccup managed to get to his feet and stared at the island. The shape was familiar because it had only been a few months since they had defeated the Skrill but somehow, it seemed like a whole lifetime.. The dragon was buried very deep in the ice and it would take months to dig it out. He swallowed. The Skrill was as deranged the Berserker Chief and had taken a deep dislike to Hiccup and Toothless. It had taken the efforts of the clever boy, the super quick and brave Night Fury and the help of the fearless twins to trap the dragon last time.

Dagur emerged and giggled. "My Skrill will be glorious!" he announced. Then he turned to Hiccup and closed his hand cruelly around his neck. Hiccup froze: any time Dagur touched him seemed to bring back the final moments of Truth or Forfeit. He blinked hard. "And this time you won't get your frail little hands on my dragon!" Dagur added menacingly. Hiccup went rigid, his eyes dark with fear. He shook his head slightly.

"No, Master," he whispered.

He was a slave. He belonged to the Berserker Tribe. He had been exiled from Berk, disowned by his father, abandoned by his friends, thrown out of his Tribe.

He was probably even a traitor now.

Dagur released him and gestured for the Captain to moor them on the only viable beach, an ice-swathed ledge just above sea level. The Berserker Chief was impatient and was pacing like a caged animal as they moored and the gangplank was lowered. Dagur raced off first, followed by his close guard and Savage. The Outcast gestured and Hiccup was bodily picked up and dragged along as well. The Berserker Chief glared at him and he stared back, almost too scared to speak.

"Well?" Dagur snarled. Hiccup glanced up the sheer ice wall.

"Up there," he said breathlessly. Dagur grabbed his tunic.

"And how am I supposed to get up there?" he hissed. Hiccup stiffened. He swallowed once.

"Climb?" he suggested. Dagur's fist curled and he began to hyperventilate. "L-look, I-I was on T-Toothless when I w-was l-last here..." He mastered himself. He was being truthful: he should have nothing to fear. "We-we flew up to the c-caves and trapped it. We melted ice to freeze it." Then he allowed himself a slight smile because he could see Dagur was completely mad at the 'but' that Hiccup had deliberately omitted from the tale. No matter what he said, he would pay dearly for this disaster. He had delivered the Skill, but it would take Dagur's men half a year to dig it out. "It may take some freeing!" he added and there was the vaguely taunting note in his voice that cut the Berserker to the quick. Dagur was almost shaking with rage now, his mad eyes locked on the boy's white face. Despite his beatings and the awful mistreatment, he was still defiant.

Dagur lifted his head.

"Get up there, search and find my Skrill!" he screamed. Then his hands closed tighter on Hiccups grimy tunic and he began to drag the boy back to ship. "And you...this is a forfeit," he hissed, with hatred in his voice. He continued dragging the struggling boy. "We will locate my Skrill, I will make you pay for your lies and then we are destroying Berk!"

oOo

After Dagur had finished with him, Hiccup was locked in a small cage in the hold. While he wanted to be anywhere but here, at least he was reasonably protected from random Berserker violence, though he was starved and given just enough water to keep him alive. He sat up painfully and scooched into a corner, huddled as small as he could make himself. Dagur had clamped an iron collar around his throat to really emphasise his status as a slave and the boy winced as it dug into his neck as he tried to rest. His clothing was ragged and stained with blood and other things he would rather not consider and he was cold.

The flagship had sailed south, heading not for Berk but back to Outcast Island because Dagur had assigned most of his ships to excavation work and needed a fresh fleet before he sailed against Berk. Hiccup knew that the weather would soon stop the Berserkers digging and it would take them a couple of years of very interrupted digging to free to Skrill. No matter what he had suffered, he had done his best. But it wouldn't spare his home.

I am a slave. I belong to the Berserkers. My actions have doomed my Tribe.

But they threw me out. They sent me here to be tortured and abused and whipped. They threatened to kill me. Why the Hel should I care about them?

Toothless never betrayed me.

But no matter what I didn't do, they won't take me back. My dad will never admit to a mistake. I was innocent. I wasn't a traitor. I think I might be one now but I never wanted to harm anyone.

I'm sorry, bud.

The arrival at Outcast Island wasn't much more fun either. Dragged from the ship, cuffed and taunted by Savage, Hiccup felt the condemning eyes on him and he almost sighed in relief as he was thrown into his little cell. He lay still for a long moment and then slowly crawled to the far corner. He was shaking so hard he couldn't lift the water bowl so he just wrapped his arms around his body and buried his face in his knees again.

Mildew took a couple of hours to amble up to see him and he was predictably snide.

"Ooh, I didn't think yer could look any worse, but 'ere yer are!" he commented calmly after entering the cell and staring at the battered boy for a few moments. "'Eard yer couldn't keep yer mouth shut. Pity. But at least I won me bet!" Hiccup raised his face and glared at the old man. Mildew was technically the closest he had to friend here and he really loathed the old man's cruel comments.

"Glad it worked out well for you," he said gruffly. His throat was suddenly thick with misery.

"I warned yer, 'Iccup, that Dagur was going to 'ave yer," Mildew said in an offended voice. "I can't do any more!"

"Nor can I," Hiccup said tonelessly. "I called him Master. I obeyed him. I...I couldn't betray Berk...b-but I told him how to find his Skrill..." He swallowed hard, tears edging his words now. "He promised if I did what he commanded, he-he would spare Berk."

"And 'e ain't going to," Mildew sighed. "Yer believed 'im?" The tiny nod. "WHY? Because Dagur the Deranged promised to spare yer precious Berk just before he 'ad yer? Yer think whoring yerself to 'im will stop Dagur doin' exactly what he wants?"

An even smaller nod. The boy was shaking hard now, tears sliding down his battered cheeks. His nostrils flared as he struggled to contain his sobs.

"They-they threw me out but-but I don't want-want them to d-die!" he gasped. He swallowed and cuffed his face. For a moment, he looked utterly crushed.

"Dagur'll take yer back," Mildew told him bluntly. "'E's a gloater. E'll want to show yer off to Stoick and make sure 'e can see what fun 'e's been 'aving with yer. 'E may even want ter demonstrate..." Hiccup raised his shaking hands to cover his face.

"Thor, please help m-me," he breathed.

"I really doubt Thor will 'ave anything to do with a slave who once rode the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself! Thor protects the strong and yer all weak spot, 'Iccup!"

They left him in the cell for a few more hours before the guards fetched him and he was taken out to work. He was forced to chop wood, clear yet more yak dung (where were all these yaks anyway?) and scrub the floors. He was kicked and sneered at as he toiled. If he finished a task, another was given him. He was never given anything he could use to escape. At nights, he was dumped back in his cell and fed dried meat or fish and bread. They fed him watered ale and left him alone until he was dragged out at dawn for the next day's work. And if he slowed, he was stripped to the waist and whipped.

After ten days, he felt as if he couldn't do any more. They were feeding him just enough to stay alive, not work as hard as he was. He knew he had lost weight, his prosthetic was rubbing ferociously and he was feeling dizzy from exhaustion. The guards took him to Savage to inspect and the big Outcast had circled him like a cat looking at its prey.

"You are a big disappointment," he growled to the kneeling boy. "You are weak and pathetic. Your father should be embarrassed."

"I'm sure he would be-if he still had a son," Hiccup said smartly, his emerald eyes flicking up to view the man walking so menacingly around him. "But he doesn't. He disowned me, threw me out of my tribe and exiled me. If you want to send me elsewhere, I would be..." Savage backhanded him brutally, knocking the boy to the floor, blood dribbling for his split lip and head spinning from the blow. His vision had actually greyed at the impact and he felt disorientated.

"You know, I just start to believe that Dagur is starting to train that defiance and sass mouth out of you and then you disappoint me once more," Savage snarled. "He may have made you his slave, but you're working for me now and I won't take your defiance another moment. He's been far too kind to you so now I think you need to learn some manners.

"Wasn't aware Outcasts had manners," Hiccup mumbled through his split lip. Half his face felt swollen from the blow and his arms were shaking as he levered himself to his knees. Savage grabbed him by the throat and lifted the boy fiercely.

"That's what I mean," he growled, throwing the choking boy onto the table. Hiccup clawed at the hands, tight around his neck, and he whimpered pitifully.

"This is your plan?" he rasped as Savage released the pressure slightly. He wanted Hiccup conscious and compliant, not choked half to death. "You're still second to Dagur," he added roughly, hoping the man would recall that Dagur had instructed no one but him was to hurt Hiccup. And while punches and cut of the whip didn't even seem to count, raping him most certainly would.

Savage flipped him, pressing him down on to the table, his hand still tight around the boy's smooth throat. Hiccups skin was still soft, except where it had been whipped or branded, but the crops of bruises he bore were covering much of his skin. He could feel the boy's throat bobbing under his grasp and felt shudders running through the boy.

"Oh, you want this, don't you-slut?" he hissed in the boy's ear. Eagerly, he tore the boy's leggings down, roughly squeezing his buttocks and pulling his legs apart. "You're so small and weak, I bet you took this all the time back on Berk. Did your precious Daddy pass you around the Warriors? Were you taken along on voyages for a bit of relief for the men? Why else would he keep such a runt? And why would any woman want a pathetic little runt like you?" Hiccup squeezed his eyes closed, hoping and praying that this was just a horrible nightmare, that somehow Savage would see he really didn't want him anywhere near him. But the Outcast was already dragging his breeches down and resting against the boy.

"And I want to hear you telling me how much you want it, boy!" he snarled. Hiccup stiffened, bracing himself against the imminent pain.

"Never!" he gasped against the tight grip on his throat. Then he screamed as Savage lunged at him.

"I'm continuing until I hear what I want, slut," Savage grunted as he tightened his grasp on the boy's neck and hip. "I've got all night."


	12. I never wanted any of this

He awoke in his cell, his memory fuzzy from the choking. He swallowed and that really hurt. And so did other areas as that abruptly and horrifically reminded him why his throat hurt. He pressed his face into his arm and felt a deep pain in his ass and an even deeper surge of shame. Savage had broken him...he couldn't remember when...but he had forced Hiccup to say the words he wanted and repeat all sorts of filth, begging the big Outcast to abuse him in viler and viler ways. He shuddered. As far as the fragments of memory he could gather suggested, Savage had taken him up on his invitation.

He shifted his lower half cautiously. It was excruciating and he thought he could feel blood. He buried his face further into his bruised arm. Somehow, life just kept getting worse. His shoulders jerked with sobs but his eyes were dry: he had run out of tears. This was all he could look forward to for the remainder of his life.

I'm sorry bud. I would have like to see once more.

He lost consciousness and only woke when Mildew kicked him.

"And I thought yer were smart!" he taunted the boy. "What I tell yer? Bow yer 'ead and look like yer broken! Can't yer understand that?"

"What can I say? Wasn't listening," Hiccup rasped. Mildew gave a laugh at his struggles to speak and the horrible bruises on his throat.

"Now that's a new way to shut yer up!" he sniggered, then walked forward and whacked the boy with his staff. "I can think if at least one more! Oh-and Dagur wants to see yer, boy. Now!" Hiccup yelped and slowly levered himself to his feet. Head down, shoulders slumped, spirit seemingly broken, Hiccup painfully limped through the dungeons. His stomach was fluttering with fear and he feared what the Berserker would do to him. Though he doubted he had much left to take.

He stood slumped in front of Dagur, trembling. The Berserker inspected his slave for a long, cruel moment, then snapped his fingers.

"Get on your knees!" he snapped. Hiccup flinched and dropped to his knees, still inspecting the floor furiously. "It's taken some work but finally, you begin to act like a slave," the Berserker announced and stalked round the boy. Hiccup swallowed.

"Yes, master," he murmured because he knew Dagur savoured hearing the boy say the word. The Chief grabbed his hair and forced him to look up. There was enough fear in the green gaze to satisfy him. He stroked the bruised throat and Hiccup swallowed painfully.

"Not one of mine," he murmured, then grabbed the boy's tunic and hauled him to his feet. He slid his hand down his back and the boy shivered at the flash of discomfort at the pressure across his whipped flesh. Dagur smiled and then stroked his buttocks, gratified at the way the boy stiffened in anxiety. Hiccup was still stubbornly shy and unresponsive to Dagur's sexual advances and that excited the Berserker Chief enormously. A resisting Hiccup was far more fun than a compliant one: the feel of his desperate struggles, the sound of his desperate and agonised cries and the knowledge he was breaking the boy, piece by piece, was overwhelming. He felt his loins pound with rising excitement.

"Who told you that you could whore yourself around, slave?" Hiccup suddenly jerked his gaze up to meet Dagur's coldly menacing one.

"I-I didn't..." he whispered, sickened at the thought. He had been repeatedly raped, hating every moment of the abuse. How could Dagur even consider that he enjoyed being violated?

Because he would, he told himself silently. He shook his head.

"N-no, m-master," he rasped painfully. "I-I know I am yours." And he hated himself for the words. Dagur grasped his ass tightly.

"Savage said you came onto him like a slut, your sassy mouth and defiance all on display!" he snarled.

"He's lying, master!" The words were breathless, fearful. He could hear Savage move behind him and knew he would pay, and whatever the outcome.

"Why should he, slave? I can see you, trying to sell the only currency you have for a few luxuries, but what would he have to gain by angering me?" Dagur demanded. Hiccup flinched from the fury in his words. Whatever Savage had just done to him would be doubled by Dagur in this mood.

"Maybe he doesn't like being a second in command again," Hiccup gasped as Dagur continued massaging his butt. "Maybe he wanted to prove he was my master instead of you."

"You should gave refused him!" Dagur shouted. Hiccup flinched.

"How-how could I d-do that, master?" he stammered. "He's far stronger than me. I-I was pinned down. I struggled but I couldn't stop him. Please! I never wanted this!"

I never wanted any of this.

"I really should punish you for betraying me with him," he said, his fingers digging painfully into Hiccup's flesh. "But the thought of you under that man is kinda hot...provided you know your place." And he forced the boy to his knees, grabbing a big handful of hair to hold the boy steady. Angrily, the Berserker Chief unlaced his breeches, one-handed, and forced Hiccup forward.

"And this is your place," he growled. "Prove you are mine. Pleasure me!" Hiccup shook his head pitifully, facing the man's erect genitalia and feeling fear numb him.

"N-no...I d-don't know h-how..." he begged and tried to pull away. Dagur immediately closed his hand around the boy's throat and squeezed. Wild-eyed, Hiccup clawed at his hands, struggling for air. The moment, his mouth opened to gasp, Dagur lunged forward into him and he heard the boy choking.

"Close your mouth and I will break your neck!" he shouted, easing the crushing grasp on Hiccup's throat and rocking his hips forward. Shivering, fighting, gagging, Hiccup could do nothing but struggle to breathe and try to survive this latest indignity. Quickly, the Chief finished his pleasure and Hiccup gagged, then vomited, the moment he was released. Dagur calmly restored his clothes and stared down at his slave.

"Are you looking forward to returning to Berk?" he demanded. Hiccup wiped his mouth and took a heaving breath, then gulped in fear.

"They-they exiled me, master," he stammered. "I-I can never return...on pain of death." He blinked hard and Dagur read him fighting his misery. This was touching the core of his disgrace."I-I am a B-Berserker now..." he added, cringing inwardly.

I am exiled from Berk. I am a slave. I tried...tried to spare Berk but he broke his word.

I am so sorry, bud.

Dagur wrenched his head back even further and he stiffened. "I believe that your father is weak!" he hissed. "I think he still cares for you-and when I show up with his precious little runt of a son in chains, beaten and battered, he will give me anything I want for you. Even your dragon!" Hiccup breathed hard and blinked, his eyes burning. The words had devastatingly amplified the pain he had tried to ignore in his struggles to survive. And Dagur could see his pain in his eyes.

"You don't know Stoick the Vast," he said hoarsely, his tone hopeless "He was the one who sentenced me. He said I was not his son. He called me a traitor."

"That must have been hard," Dagur said disinterestedly, having murdered his own father. "But you should have kept your word, slave. If it had my glorious Skrill, now, this wouldn't be necessary!" Hiccup gave a slight, weary sigh.

"You stole my home, my family, my best friend. I took you to the Skrill-and you promised to spare Berk. You want to taunt Stoick about me. Go ahead! You'll be disappointed. He will not change his mind just because I am experiencing what you made them think I deserve." Dagur stared into the pale face and gave a cruel smile.

"Do you even hate me?" he hissed. The quick flick of Hiccup's green eyes gave the tiniest hint of his defiance and Dagur slammed his fist across the boy's face. Hiccup went down with a slight cry and lay still, stunned. His head was spinning from the impact as Savage watched him and then kicked the boy. Painfully, Hiccup stirred.

Savage nodded and hauled the sagging boy to his feet. Dagur laughed at him. There was enough panic in his eyes at the position, being held helpless by Savage before Dagur once more, to satisfy the Berserker.

Hiccup gave a tiny nod. Dagur grabbed his hair and shoved his face inches from Hiccup's. "If not me, then there is someone you should blame!" he announced. Rigid with fear, Hiccup heard steps and fearfully glanced over his shoulder to see a familiar shape: Lars, accompanied by Captain Vorg. He started and his eyes widened at the shape of the elder.

"Lars?" he murmured. "What-what are you doing here?"

"How did you think the proof ended in your room?" Lars asked him coldly. Hiccup stared at him, his head spinning. He stared in shock. Suddenly, the horrific cruelty of his sentence, of the way his own neighbours and friends had treated him hit him again and he began to shiver.

"You're working with Dagur?" he asked. "Oh Thor, why does this keep happening?" he added with a sigh. Lars gave him a sneer and walked to stand by Dagur.

"You think I want a one-legged weakling as my Chief?" he snarled. "I want Berk to be a Viking Island, not a Dragon sanctuary! And the Berserkers are proper Vikings-unlike you, you wretched little traitor!"

"I'm not a traitor!" Hiccup yelled, suddenly struggling against Savage.

"You betrayed every Viking by choosing a lizard over your own kind!" Lars snarled.

"And what did Dagur offer you to betray your Chief?" Hiccup asked him directly, his eyes glittering with righteous anger at the treason. Savage tightened his grips on his arms and he winced. Lars inspected him like an insect.

"When Dagur takes Berk, he will want a lieutenant to run it for him," he said easily. "And the first job will be to kill every reptile on Berk!" Hiccup felt nauseated, still wrestling against his restraints.

"After you kill my Dad," he said quietly. His stomach tensed in anger and concern. Despite what had happened and everything he had desperately told himself through the painful weeks of his exile, through every beating and whipping and torment, he still loved his Dad and didn't want any harm to come to him. Lars smiled at him cruelly.

"I'll make sure he knows he's condemned his son to death here before I kill him," he sneered. "His innocent son." Hiccup managed to break free from Savage-or maybe Savage left him go-and lunged for him. He knew it was madness but he couldn't stop himself. Lars threw him off and kicked the boy. Dagur's men jumped forward at the lazy snap of his fingers and wrenched the boy up, holding him firm. He struggled desperately but the Berserker was staring at him like an insect.

"No 'Master'. No meek bow of the head. None of that delicious shivering you do when you're so scared you can barely breathe," Dagur condemned him ruthlessly. "It seems you haven't learned the rules of Truth or Forfeit yet." Hiccup stared at him, still angry but as reality reasserted itself, he felt fear clutch his gut. Dagur was smiling cruelly and he guessed he was in desperate trouble,

"Dagur..." he breathed, "you can go to Hel!" The Berserker stared at the stiff little shape and stroked the face tenderly then nodded to Savage.

"Take him to my cabin. I'll deal with him in the journey. I could do with some entertainment!" he said grimly. "Lars-you know your part. Don't act surprised when I bring the boy: he's the distraction. When Stoick is taken off guard, make your move!"


	13. Appeal Rejected

The twins flew back to the academy on Barf and Belch unexpectedly and Astrid stared as they leapt from their dragon. They were clearly thinking: Tuffnut almost looked in pain and Ruffnut was tugging on her braids. Both looked unhappy. Astrid and Fishlegs walked towards them.

"Are you guys OK?" Astrid asked. Tuffnut frowned.

"You know how you asked up to look for people arriving?" Tuffnut asked.

"Yes," Astrid asked thoughtfully. "Have you seen anyone?"

"No," Tuffnut said definitely.

"But we saw someone leaving!" Ruffnut added. It was clear the twins were really wrestling with the reversal of the concept they had been sent out to deal with. Astrid frowned.

"Who?" She asked urgently.

"Lars," Ruffnut revealed.

"He got into an Outcast ship and sailed off early this morning," Tuffnut said. Astrid started and stared at Fishlegs, who did a swift mental calculation.

"He won't be back yet," he said. Astrid gave a smile.

"This was right, right?" Tuffnut asked in a confused voice.

"You did good," Astrid reassured him and turned to Fishlegs. "Come on!" she said. "We need to go to the Chief!"

oOo

Stoick flatly refused to see them, his eyes angry and slightly sad as they desperately tried to make their case.

"I have no son," was all he would say.

"Even so, there is a person who give a limb for this island who had been wrongly accused!" Astrid argued.

"ENOUGH!" Stoick roared. "All this talk of fake burns and non-poisonous poison is ridiculous! And Lars was sent fishing by me. We need seal meat for Gothi and he volunteered to go. There are seals in the secluded coves, aren't there?"

"Yes, sir," Fishlegs said quickly to prevent Astrid getting them all in trouble.

"The letters were to my son. They were signed by Dagur. He is a traitor. I will hear no more of this talk. Now leave me!"

"Well, that was especially successful!" Snotlout said sarcastically. "Way to make the Chief mad!"

"You're not exactly doing badly out of this!" Astrid snapped. "You've basically taken his place. He's a prisoner of Dagur and you've become heir to Berk!"

"Hey, babe-I can't help being his cousin and being devastatingly handsome, strong and ...well...the best Viking Berk has!"

"While, Hiccup isn't," Astrid said suddenly, her face sad. "He's small, weaker than you, he's got one leg and he stammers." Snotlout gave a superior smile. "But he is caring, decent, brave, clever and never gives up, no matter how badly he is treated. He's my friend and I can't sleep knowing he is still suffering on Outcast Island. We have to catch Lars!"

oOo

Hiccup regained his senses curled and bound in the corner of Dagur's cabin. He hurt-a lot-and he achingly pressed his hands to his face. He could only remember fragments of the voyage. Dagur's forfeit had been vicious and he had lost it partway through, crying and begging for mercy. He could recall the Berserker's hand gently cupping his face, his voice whispering poison in Hiccup's ears, his sensuous touch causing the boy to recoil and taste vomit. The bite of the lash, the feel of fire, burning his skin, the sound of his screams, echoing in his ears. The increasingly familiar pain of violent sex.

Slowly, every movement wracking his skinny shape with pain, he manoeuvred himself to his knees. Dagur was sitting on the bed, mercifully fully-dressed.

"I don't wait for my slave," he hissed. His fist curled.

"N-no, master," he groaned. His throat was still sore from screaming.

"You should be happy," Dagur told him, rising decisively. "We're on our way to Berk. Won't it be nice to see Daddy again?"

"I was disowned," Hiccup said tonelessly.

"You know, fathers never really stop loving their sons," Dagur said, towering over him. "My father, Oswald the Agreeable, loved me despite my obvious Berserker tendencies. Right up to the moment I buried that axe in his head, I guess."

"You know I won't help you kill my Dad. I won't ever help you against Berk." The words were dull and Dagur inspected his face closely. The long lashes were downcast, shielding those enticing green eyes. The lashes were fluttering just a little that Dagur had realised signalled he had almost brought the boy to tears. He was harder to make scream but Dagur savoured the challenge.

"Just being there will help," Dagur said cruelly, searching the face for a reaction. "And I want to see Stoick's face when I show him his son!" Hiccup felt his guts clench in pain.

"He has no son," he repeated and the pain in his voice was obvious. Dagur grabbed his hair and forced the pale face up. Hiccup had deep shadows under his eyes from pain and lack of sleep.

"Lars tells me he made that cousin of yours-what's his name? Snotman?-his heir," Dagur told him, inspecting his face for a reaction. Hiccup sagged.

"Snotlout," he murmured. "Obvious." Dagur pulled his head back more and stroked Hiccup'a bruised neck.

"Truth or forfeit," he said brusquely. "You behave as my slave, you keep your mouth shut and your eyes downcast, or I start to tell your former Chief just how much you have betrayed your tribe." Hiccup breathed heavily.

I am a slave. I was not a traitor. I have never betrayed Berk. Oh Thor, please don't let me have betrayed Berk.

"How?" he breathed. Dagur leaned close.

"You found my Skrill," he breathed. "You helped us fight off a Changewing attack. You have joined the Berserker Tribe..." And his hand slid down and caressed his brand. "You're my body slave. How much do you want your Dad-or the blonde girl-to hear that?" Hiccup closed his eyes and shook his head slightly. "I'll spare them if you comply. If not...how much do you want to watch their forfeits?" Hiccup stared up at the Berserker.

"Master," he breathed in defeat. "I am your slave."


	14. Return to Berk

The leading Berserker ship approached the docks of Berk with the rest of the Armada moored just beyond the harbour. Stoick, Gobber, the Elders and the Riders all stood by, their dragons perched on the ramp. Dagur dropped the gangplank and his lieutenant stood forward.

"The supreme Chief of all Berserkers, Dagur the Deranged, would speak to Stoick the Vast of the Hooligan Tribe under a flag of truce!" he announced.

"What, does the flag of truce just allow a small armada now?" Gobber asked out of the corner of his mouth. He had tried to speak to Stoick as well but the Chief was as boneheaded as he had always been and had refused to even listen to his friend. The dragons were ready to fly and all the defences were readied. Guards and armed Berkians were stationed all over the harbour and village.

"It's not the time for the annual Treaty," Stoick told the man loudly, his gruff voice echoing through the harbour.

"Not that we actually signed that last time," Dagur shouted back. "Stoick, I can see there is much mistrust between us but I want to try to avoid a blood-feud or all-out war. Surely that is worth exploring?"

"Signal the Armada to moor out of the harbour," Stoick snarled. "Then you can come ashore." Dagur nodded: he had anticipated e condition and gave the signal without a protest.

"I presume I can bring my retinue?" he asked. Stoick gave a single curt nod, never taking his eyes from the Berserker. "Lieutenant Kjetil, Savage, my bodyguards Erik and Per and, of course, my personal slave..." He gestured and Hiccup was shoved forward, limping painfully. He walked to the back of the party, to the very edge of the gangplank but no further.

Stoick glanced at the bowed shape and unwillingly, his eyes flickered with pity. The boy had been cast out but Berk did not keep slaves and the boy certainly seemed to be suffering. Hiccup didn't dare look up, fearing to see the hatred and dismissal in his father's eyes. Once was enough, in the Great Hall. He doubted the last shreds of his courage would stretch to coping with that again. Aaldo shoved him roughly forward and he staggered onto the dock. He was breathing hard

Dagur noted the veiled dismay in his eyes and grinned."I see you know my slave," he added smugly. Magnus leaned forward.

"That traitor is not permitted to set foot on Berk. He is an Outcast!" he spat. There were agreeing noises from the other Elders and the rattle of axes and swords. Hiccup bowed his head in pain and took a shuddering breath. He was shaking hard and felt the words like a blow. But he also heard the gasp of Astrid and cringed that she was seeing him like this. She was the last dream he hadn't tampered with, hadn't even touched because knowing he had lost her would shatter him. The other Riders were equally horrified at his appearance, battered and bruised and in chains. He looked much thinner and paler than they had ever seen him. There were a few rents in his dirty and blood-stained tunic with the red of his welts visible through and he looked hunched and in pain.

"Er-HELLO! Ruler of the Outcasts now! They're ALL Outcasts! And he is my slave," Dagur said menacingly. "My personal slave! I am entitled to bring my retinue." And his hand dropped to his sword.

Stoick slightly raised his hand to silence his companions, his expression grim and angry. "Why are you really here, Dagur?" he asked slowly. "Hiccup has been found guilty of treason and Cast Out. He is not allowed on Berk. He has been disowned by his family and his Tribe."

Hiccup closed his eyes at the finality of the words and swallowed a sobbing breath. Despite everything he had said, there had been a tiny corner of his mind that had clung to the remote fantasy that Stoick would see him and forgive him. That he would take him in his arms and tell the boy that he was forgiven. That he wasn't rejected by everyone he knew and loved. Dagur laughed.

"Then you should be pleased that this traitor is suffering a suitable fate!" he scoffed. "Of course, when you threw him off Berk, we had to adopt him. He's a Berserker now!" And he tore the shoulder of Hiccup's tunic open, revealing the savage brand. "We mark our slaves like beasts-and this one was more wilful than most. He seems to enjoy the lash-don't you, slave?' Hiccup swallowed slowly.

"Yes, master," he whispered.

"Louder, slave!" Dagur roared. Hiccup visibly flinched.

"Yes, master," he said more clearly. Dagur walked over to the boy and ran his fingers over the brand.

"He's wilful but I think I've broken most of his spirit. And his hide," he added, laughing. He grabbed a handful of hair and forced Hiccup's head back, demonstrating his bruises. "What do you think?" Stoick frowned, his eyes remote and vaguely disgusted.

"I am not about to congratulate you on acquiring a traitor," Stoick said coldly. Hiccup caught his expression and cringed inwardly. The words were dismissive. Stoick had already erased him from his life. "Or that you have beaten your recalcitrant slave." Hiccup tried to pull away and Dagur jerked his head back.

"Do you want me to show your friends what you've been doing?" he threatened softly. Hiccup bowed his head as he was released and stared numbly at the ground.

"No, master," he mumbled.

"You try to run or speak out of turn and I'll show your friends how you serve your Chief!" Dagur hissed. "Won't that be fun?" Hiccup swallowed. He was shaking so hard he could barely talk, his throat thick with unshed tears.

"For one of us," he breathed. Dagur leaned closer.

"You will pay for that," he promised, then shoved the boy back and stalked off after Stoick, up the ramp. Wearily, he limped after them, his head down and body hurting with every movement. He knew the way up from the harbour like the back of his hand, the sights and sounds and smells almost agonisingly painful in the reminders of rejection they brought up. He limped along and suddenly found Astrid at his side. He glanced up in alarm but Dagur was verbally sparring with Stoick and wasn't watching his slave.

"Hiccup!" she said in a low voice. He sighed, then looked up. Close up, he looked even worse. His was gaunt, dirty, battered and cowed. Her blue eyes lingered on the savage brand and she winced. "How are you?" she asked seriously. The fact she wasn't teasing him only made him feel worse.

"Been better," he said, self-consciously, pulling at the torn shoulder and vainly trying to cover the brand.

"That's gotta hurt," she said sympathetically. He nodded.

"You have no idea," he said tonelessly. "Astrid-how's Toothless?" She gave him a sad look and his heart jolted but she gently laid a hand on his arm.

"He misses you terribly," she said heavily. "Sometimes, he won't eat or fly, he just curls up round your saddle and whines."

"Don't let him, Astrid," he begged pitifully. "He-he doesn't deserve any of this!"

"And you do?" she snapped, suddenly angry. He flinched and stared at the ground. She saw his hands tremble and regretted her harsh tone. It was obvious Hiccup had endured a terrible amount of harsh treatment. "I'm sorry, " she added quickly. "I..." He managed the faintest ghost of a smile.

"No, it was fair," he murmured. "I never betrayed Berk. I was innocent. I...was condemned and exiled for something I didn't do." And he swallowed nervously. "B-but n-now..." He stopped, trembling so hard he had to clasp his hands together. "I-I'm not s-sure I didn't help him without meaning," he added. "I-I never knowingly did anything against Berk. But...but I had to help him find the Skrill..." She stopped, scowled and folded her arms.

"Really?" she snapped. "And how isn't that helping him against us!"

"It's buried deep in the ice...it'll take them years to dig it out without dragons," Hiccup replied and then closed his eyes. "Astrid, it was that or tell him exactly how to invade Berk." He stared at his trembling hands.

"You shouldn't have done either!" she told him dogmatically. He sighed.

"Yeah, that's easy to say, safe here in Berk," he said bitterly. "You try it with Dagur whipping your hide, burning you with brands, threatening...starting to.. to cut off your hand..." And he ashamedly lifted his left wrist, the grimy bandage over the deep cut. She hesitantly pulled the grubby material down and looked at the horrible scar. Her eyes softened.

"Oh," she said. He stiffened and a sudden surge of anger at the unfairness of it, of how he was still being judged by people who had no clue how much he had suffered. He swallowed.

"Yeah," he murmured and resumed his painful limp after the rest of the party. Savage was waiting for him and Astrid hung back as the Outcast grabbed Hiccup cruelly on the shoulder.

"Have you been whining to your old friends?" he menaced. Hiccup stiffened and Astrid caught panic on his voice.

"N-no, Savage," he said urgently, begging for clemency. She saw him cringe, especially when the man lifted his whip and used it to tilt his bruised chin. He was almost hyperventilating and she felt a surge of disgust at his cowardice before reminding herself that Hiccup wasn't a coward and she had no idea the tortures he had suffered over the weeks he had been gone. This thin, scarred, cowed boy was very different from the bright, kind, generous friend who had been cruelly exiled.

We should have been quicker, she realised. How much damage have they done to Hiccup? Can he possibly recover from this? The boy was shaking with fear and Savage was whispering horrible threats in his ear. He bowed his head and swallowed.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "Please don't tell Dagur." Savage gave a nasty smile.

"Don't push it!" he snapped and stalked up the hill. Hiccup put his head down and walked after him. Astrid ran to catch up but he ignored her. Eventually, she ran and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him to face her. His face was pleading.

"Hiccup!"

"Please, Astrid," he said in a nervous voice. "If they see me talking to you-or the others, they're going to whip me!" She frowned. He sagged and then slowly, ashamedly, he dragged his tunic up to show the welts across his back, all in various stages of healing. After a moment when her silence told him everything, he dropped the stained material and resumed his painful trudge up the hill. Astrid stared after him, then went to join the others.

"What does he say?" Fishlegs asked eagerly. The plan had been to let Hiccup know what they had found and that they were planning to get his exile rescinded. Astrid looked up, her face distracted.

"Hmm? Oh, I didn't tell him," she said thoughtfully.

"What?"

"Oh, come on! Leave it to me!" Snotlout cut in brashly and made to get up but she shook her head.

"He's been very badly treated," she said quietly. "Very badly. I think they've spent the whole time beating and whipping him. He won't talk to us because he's been threatened with the lash. And he's terrified."

"Might have known that runt couldn't..." Snotlout scoffed but Astrid cut in.

"Don't judge him!" she snapped. "Not until you've spoken to him. Please, show him some pity." Fishlegs paused.

"So what does that mean for our plan?" he asked.

"We never caught Lars," Astrid said, "and Hiccup is here. This is our only chance to save him."

"And if no one listens?" Fishlegs asked. Astrid sighed.

"We'll get him to Toothless and they can escape together," she said. "No one deserves the abuse he's been taking!"

Dagur had toured the armoury, the grain store and the plaza before heading for the Great Hall for a hastily-prepared feast. Hiccup remained solidly at the back of the Berserker group, catching hissed words of 'traitor' and ''murderer' everywhere he went. Every time the words sounded, he winced. He had almost grown used to being called 'runt' and 'useless' though every time he caught the words, he had felt them like a blow. This felt just as bad.

I was exiled from Berk. I am a slave. I have never worked against Berk. Lord Thor, please don't let me be a traitor...

He stood trembling behind Dagur as the Berserker Chief began his feast. Hiccup folded his hands and stared at the floor. He was far too close to Stoick, the proximity a torment in itself. He wanted to run forward, throw himself on his face and scream and beg for forgiveness from his father. But he knew as well that Stoick wouldn't even acknowledge his existence. He noticed Gobber, who was sitting next to his Chief, casting an unabashed eye over the battered boy and grimacing-Hiccup presumed it was in disgust-while Snotlout sat in Hiccup's-the heir's-chair and tucked into the food lustily. Hiccup's stomach was growling with hunger and he was feeling light-headed as Dagur waved his goblet angrily.

"Slave!" he hissed. Hiccup stiffened then lurched forward, grabbing the goblet in a trembling hand and refilling it with ale. As soon as he had placed in carefully by his Chief, Dagur turned and casually hit the boy, knocking him brutally to the floor. He lay still for a long moment, his shoulders jerking with sobbing breaths, before he slowly clambered to his knees, then back to his feet. Swallowing, he lifted his chin and stared stonily at Dagur, blood smeared on his lip.

Snotlout watched Hiccup go down and stopped chewing for a long moment . His eyes flared with anger: he knew he was a bully but he had never seen anything so deliberately cruel. His fists curled but then a tight grip on his shoulder stopped him. He looked up into Stoick's eyes.

"Easy, son-it's none of our business," he said finally.

"But it is," Snotlout said quietly.

"Enough," Stoick repeated and turned back to his food. Snotlout cast a helpless look at the others. The Chief was completely determined not to hear anything about his exiled son. Snotlout watched Hiccup throughout the rest of the feast, uncomfortably aware that the thin and battered boy wasn't allowed anything to eat or drink. Dagur lazily summoned his slave, getting him to fetch and carry fresh ale, mead, meat and stew which he ate hungrily. Hiccup stumbled a couple of times and placed a plate down heavily, spelling gravy on the table. Trembling, he hastily wiped it away with his sleeve but Dagur's expression twisted in anger and he leaned towards Savage, whispering harshly.

After the feast, Stoick prepared to take them around the upper village when Dagur paused and leaned close to the Chief, asking him a question. The Chief scowled them gave a gracious nod, murmuring a sentence. Dagur gave a grin and strode off by his host, his mood suddenly very chipper. His entourage hastened after him but Savage grabbed Hiccup as they left the hall and pulled him aside. The boy stiffened, his eyes wide with anxiety.

"I-I didn't say anything, Savage," he protested urgently. The Outcast gave a nasty smile.

"You are the most useless slave I ever saw!' he hissed. "And Dagur is very displeased by your performance. Any slave would be beaten for such inattention." Hiccup shook his head.

"Savage-please," he pleaded. "I-I..." The Outcast hauled him towards the back of the hall, glancing up to check that the rest of the party had gone ahead, then he lifted his fist and hit the boy.

Astrid was waiting outside the hall when Savage emerged alone. The man thoughtfully stretched his hand, then snapped his fingers and waited impatiently as Hiccup emerged. The boy was listing, fresh bruises on his face and he was gently supporting his ribs. He looked utterly defeated.

"Hiccup," she said worriedly and gently out a hand out to steady him. He flinched away from her and took a shuddering breath, his face ashamed.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "I-I...deserved it..." He was painfully aware of Savage who glared back at him then lunged at him and grabbed his arm, hauling the boy away. She stared after him, seeing his beaten shape sag. She shook her head, her eyes narrowing. She had seen the flash of raw terror in Hiccup's eyes as the man had grabbed him.

"No, you didn't," she said quietly then ran down the hill to alert the others.

Hiccup was half-dragged up the hill, the wrenching on his burnt shoulder seriously painful. Savage was growling threats at him for failing to serve Dagur well and for talking to Astrid. He stumbled, his knee slamming into the hard turf but Savage continue to drag him along and it took him several yards before he could get to his feet. A heavy cuff hit the back of his head and spots danced before his eyes.

"Pay attention!" Savage snarled. Hiccup stumbled again: he hated the feel of Savage's hands on him. Savage who had always threatened violence, whose fists had administered that very first beating, who had gleefully held him helpless for that horrific first whipping, who had raped him so brutally, who had promised to make Hiccup pay for every humiliation he had caused the Outcast. He was starting to feel light-headed. Berk was very precipitous and Hiccup hadn't eaten since yesterday. And then he looked up and all thoughts fled his stunned mind.

They stood outside the Chief's house-his home. His former home. He froze, his eyes widening. Savage shoved him forward and he saw Dagur standing by his father.

"Slave," Dagur said, his eyes hungry and tone threatening. Hiccup swallowed and dropped his eyes.

"Master-how may I serve?" he murmured flatly. He was breathing hard from the fast climb up the hill and the stirrings of fear that Dagur's expression were creating.

"Did you manage to get the brat to get a skip on?" the Berserker asked Stoick. The man scowled, his expression grim. He didn't answer. "I really find the lash does the trick, eh, slave?"

"Yes, master," Hiccup replied tonelessly.

"And it seems to have cured him of that irritating smart mouth," Dagur added, grabbing the boy's hair and jerked the boy forward. Hiccup went rigid, his eyes widening. "You did offer use of your house, Stoick. I am grateful. Sometimes, after a good meal, a man needs a little relaxation before continuing his duties." Hiccup's eyes flared with betrayal and he began to struggle.

"M-master," he breathed. "Dagur-you promised!" The Berserker grabbed his branded shoulder and used the twin grips on his shoulder and hair to drag the boy into the house. Hiccup kicked and fought furiously, struggling with grim desperation. But Dagur was strong and cruel, hauling the much smaller shape into the main room.

Stoick trudged heavily into his home, angry at the sight of the traitor, his former son but stamping on his feelings to watch the deranged Berserker wrestle the boy into the middle of the room. A memory treacherously flashed across his eyes, a simple scene from only a couple of months earlier: Hiccup sitting at the bottom of the stairs, petting Toothless and laughing as his dragon licked him stickily. Then the boy had seen his father enter and his face had lit with happiness. He had run to embrace his father and then had skipped to dutifully fetch him a mug of ale. The boy had asked him about his day, sympathised with his troubles and made a sarcastic comment about Mildew that had the Chief guffawing in mirth. It had been a happy, normal evening.

His vision cleared to see the same boy-now thin, beaten, terrified-struggling grimly against the Berserker. No matter what he had done, he was paying a savage penalty. Then he stopped himself: Hiccup was no longer his business. Dagur was pawing his neck, whispering harshly in his ear.

"The old homestead, eh? How's it feel to be here again?"

Hiccup said nothing, shaking his head and struggling silently. Dagur fisted his hair and pulled his head back. He inspected the desperate expression, seeing utter misery in the boy's eyes.

"Poor baby," he taunted. "Were you expecting Daddy to welcome you home with open arms? To salve your wounds? To forgive you?" Hiccup swallowed nervously, feeling the Berserker's hand caressing his neck. Dagur could kiss him, bite him or try to choke him and he really wanted none of those. Then the Berserker turned his head to Stoick. "Where? Upstairs?" He jerked his head towards Hiccup's loft room. The Chief gave a heavy nod. Dagur was deliberately trying to provoke him but he had hardened his heart against the traitor and he watched without emotion as Hiccup was dragged, still struggling and kicking silently, up the stairs. Hiccup had cast him one, pleading glance, his bright green eyes desperate. Stoick had glanced coldly away.

Hiccup felt his mind almost blank as he was hauled up the stairs and tossed forward onto the loft platform. But as he looked up, he felt his heart freeze in shock and dismay. The room was empty save for a bare bed. His diagrams, books and drawings were all gone, along with every possession he had. There was nothing left to mark that he had ever existed...except... Tucked into the little niche in his headboard, unnoticed by everyone but the boy who put it there, was the little, battered, hand-stitched dragon his mother had made him as a baby. No one else would know to look there but it only stabbed the pain of his exile harder into his heart.

"Hmm. A little bare," Dagur mused, as he turned full circle. "It used to be a bit more homely. And the bed...very hard. Still, I'm sure you can cope." Hiccup swallowed numbly. He could run for the edge of the loft platform, throw himself over the edge. If he landed head-first, he could kill himself. And that really seemed the only option. His room had been one of his core memories, the place he had been happiest with Toothless. It was a tiny corner of light that he had clung to during his most horrible times. And Dagur seemed Hel-bent on soiling the memory, on despoiling the boy in his own home.

"You promised," he whispered. Dagur frowned.

"I don't remember ever saying that!" the Berserker said calmly. Hiccup stared at him, then turned for the edge. But Dagur grabbed him hard and lifted him from the floor, carrying the kicking and thrashing boy towards the bed, "What's the matter, brother?" he breathed, nuzzling the boy's neck and ear. Hiccup tried to pull away.

"No," he hissed. "Not here. Please..."

Dagur slammed him into the bed but he rolled and tried to scramble away. Dagur grabbed at him and he writhed and fought. There was a grim desperation in his struggles, a single-minded defiance that angered and aroused the Berserker. Dagur shoved him back and punched the boy hard in the gut. Hiccup staggered back, his knees buckling as Dagur grabbed his shoulder and punched him across the face. Hiccup went down with a slam, still writhing and trying to get up, get away. The Berserker snagged his tunic, hauled him up then punched him once more, his body hitting the ground hard.

"You still haven't learned!" he shouted. "You still defy me even after all the effort I have put into training you!" He grabbed the stunned boy, slamming him hard onto the bed, pressing him face-down on the hard wood. Eagerly, he tore the boy's leggings down and knelt behind him, fumbling urgently with his own belt. The boy's defiance was really hot and Dagur felt the pounding in his loins was sounding so loud it would deafen him. He really hoped Stoick was listening.

"I was really trying to be nice," Dagur snarled, grabbing the boy's hair to hold him still. "But now, this is really going to hurt."


	15. I'm not a traitor

Astrid ran up the hill to see Dagur's entourage standing outside the Chief's house, sniggering. As she watched, Stoick emerged, his expression grim. The Chief leaned to talk to his elders, a low conversation hastily hissed between the men. Astrid frowned and stopped by Fishlegs, who was perched at the back.

"What's going on?" she hissed. Fishlegs looked embarrassed.

"Dagur's inside," he explained blushing slightly. "With Hiccup." Astrid started.

"But he'll kill him..." she protested but Fishlegs's blush deepened and he shook his head.

"No," he said in a squeaky voice. "He's...with...Hiccup." Astrid gazed wildly at the house, her breathing accelerating.

"But..." Her mind and mouth seemed to have switched off and she stared in utter shock. Sure, Hiccup was small and weaker than they were, but he really didn't seem as if he as into...that. In fact, Astrid had the impression that Hiccup was very gently and timidly flirting with her. Fishlegs looked at her, as if reading her mind.

"Er...I don't think he was at all keen," he admitted. "He was fighting furiously, really giving it everything he had."

Like that would be any use against Dagur, Astrid thought grimly. They all knew how badly he had suffered in the last few years of the annual Berserker Treaty signings and he had refused to speak about the time they had encountered Dagur on Dragon Island, though he had been bruised and stiff after they had returned. She glanced at the house. The choice of venue seemed very deliberate, a sadistic twist on an already horrific situation.

"Have they been in there long?" she asked hollowly. Fishlegs shrugged.

"About ten minutes or maybe more?" he guessed. Her skin crawled. She had always known that Hiccup carried a torch for her, his sarcastic humour and quiet kindness making up for his lack of strength and stature. Could she ever look at him the same way, knowing what he had done? What had been done to him?

She was about to walk forward and ask the Chief a question when the door suddenly opened and Dagur emerged, a satisfied grin on his face. He adjusted his belt pointedly, ensuring no one was in any doubt what he had been doing then turned to the Chief.

"Thanks for your hospitality, Stoick," he said cheerily. "I really needed that. Now, where next?"

"Upper defences!" Stoick said grimly, gesturing. Dagur swaggered past and nodded to his men to follow. Fishlegs headed down the hill and only Astrid remained, waiting for the last remaining member of the visiting party. Finally, the door opened again and Hiccup painfully emerged, his face swollen with welts, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. For a moment, he leaned against the doorway, hugging the wood and burying his face as his entire body shook with grief. There was no hope now: everyone knew. It was over.

"Hiccup!" Astrid said and walked towards him. He flinched and wanted to back away but there was no way he would re-enter the house. He stared at the floor and said nothing. She reached for him again and he flinched away again. Her expression was stricken. "Hiccup-what happened?" she added, her low voice determined. He shook his head.

"Life on Outcast Island is tough," he admitted. "And some people there really don't like me." He forced a watery smile on his pale, bruised face. "And Dagur has wanted me in his clutches for a while," he added hollowly.

"Hiccup?"

"There are things I don't want to share with you, Astrid," he said unevenly, his breathing jagged. He prayed she hadn't heard yet. Dear Odin, please let her not hear! "You were my friend...and I want to remember that, not the rejection if I tell you everything I endured." She snared his hand and stared into the bowed face.

"I'm still your friend!" she told him urgently. His grip tightened on hers.

"I'm no longer a Viking of Berk," he reminded her painfully. "I am a slave. I belong to Dagur. Gods, he's made that clear enough! And he's never letting me go. But..." And his ashamed green gaze lifted at that moment to stare into her concerned face. "Thank you, Astrid." Then he pulled his hand away.

"We know you're innocent!" she said.

A shudder ran through him, as if she had struck him. The groan sounded in his throat.

"Maybe before," he said tonelessly. "But now...you saw them. Everywhere I go, I hear the word traitor. It's too late. I can't come home."

"We know Lars is involved!" Astrid said urgently. "Toothless didn't attack Stoick. The beer was tampered with to make Stoick sick, not dead. Everything was done to make you look guilty. They wanted you, not him."

"No-they wanted us both," Hiccup breathed painfully, lifting his head to stare up to the upper defences. "They've got me. Now, they're after him."

"But..."

"Lars," he gasped, breathing hard. "He's Dagur's man. He's planning to kill my Dad when they tour the defences..."

"But we couldn't find him!" Astrid argued. "He left the Island and we waited and waited for him to return but he never came..."

"He's here," Hiccup said wearily. "I could see him sitting at the back from where I was standing, serving. Dagur gave him the signal." He took a shuddering breath. "You've gotta stop him!"

"What about not talking to us?" Astrid asked him sharply, recalling his words from earlier. He shuddered and sagged slightly.

"They'll whip me anyway," he said dully. Then he swallowed, "That was why he insisted...now..." He shuddered. "He wanted Dad to see us together, to see him..." He swallowed. "Before he makes his move. He's going to do it now! You gotta save my dad!" She grabbed his hand.

"Come on!" she said and dragged him off towards the upper defences. But he fought her, his face stricken.

"I'll slow you down," he protested. "Go! Warn him!" She stared into his face and smiled.

"No," she said. "You do the warning. I'll get the dragons!" And she ran off down the hill as he pressed his hand to his chest, then began to stumble as quickly as he could up the village.

He arrived, panting, at the back of the group. Savage cast him a deeply menacing glance, his hand resting lightly on his whip and Hiccup groaned inwardly, feeling himself shrink away from the threat. He almost backed away but the memory of the gentle grasp on his hand and Astrid's words echoed through his memory.

I'm still your friend. We know you're innocent.

He ducked forward and inched round the edge of the group. Stoick and a couple of Elders-including Lars and a couple of his cronies Hiccup recognised from town meetings -were facing Dagur and gesturing to the catapult towers and talking quietly. Stoick was trapped between the Berserkers and the traitor.

I am not a traitor.

Hiccup could see Lars making a move, his sword drawn silently. Hiccup ducked past and took a breath. "DAD! Look out! Behind you-Lars!" he shouted.

Stoick looked up and though he recognised the voice, the warrior in him knew better than to ignore a warning. He spun, ducked and drew his sword, avoiding the cowardly attack by a hair's breadth and parrying the backswing. He backed away, suddenly finding himself boxed against the rail, the hundred foot drop to the harbour yawning behind him. Lars and Dagur's guards closed on him, and he leaned forward, his eyes narrowed.

"So it's treachery!" he growled.

"Er, war!" Dagur replied shortly, twirling his battle axe.

"You came here under the flag of truce!" Stoick snarled.

"You're not going to mind in two minutes!" Dagur shot back. His men took a step forward but Hiccup barrelled into the back of one, knocking him off balance. Stoick spun, slicing the man's neck open then turning back to the traitors. He locked eyes with Lars.

"I was warned about you," he breathed. "I dismissed the accusations. I trusted you!" Hiccup felt the words like a knife to the heart and froze-and a hand closed on his shoulder.

"And you...seem to prefer the forfeit!" Dagur hissed, wrenching the boy close to him. His hand snared the boy's hair and jerked his head back, exposing the bruised neck. Hiccup swallowed in terror. He had known there would be a high price to pay for his actions but here, before Stoick, the Berserker Chief's hand on his flesh made his mind completely blank. Dagur gave Stoick a twisted smile.

"You know what your son and I have been doing for the last few weeks? Just now in your very house?" he asked silkily. Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips across the boy's cheek and against his neck. Hiccup went rigid, his eyes screwed closed and face terrified. Stoick's face locked in a grim expression. "And you know, I think he likes it," he added softly. Hiccup was now trembling hard, his breaths shuddering in fear.

The explosion of a dragon blast sounded behind them and the Warriors all looked up in shock, all but Stoick. "About time!" he growled as the riders appeared behind him, swooping up from the Academy. Lars and his friends backed off as Hookfang lowered his head and focussed on them.

"Please-give me an excuse!" Snotlout sneered. There was the clang of weapons hitting the deck and Stormfly hovered behind Stoick, the snikt of her spines raising more menacing than any battle-cry. The Zippleback hissed and the Berserkers backed away as the twins both looked especially grim, a cloud of green gas trailing from Barf's mouth. Dagur took a pace to the rail, his hand now tight round the boy's throat.

"You have defied me for the last time!" he snarled to the shaking Hiccup and threw him back over the rail towards the sea, far below.

"HICCUP!"

I am not a traitor.

Goodbye, bud.

Half-choked, weary beyond all measure and in constant pain, he felt a sudden peace as the wind whipped past him and the rail receded above him. He let his limbs go limp, his eyelids starting to flutter as he prepared for the impact.

And then a black shape suddenly appeared above him, arrowing down fast towards him, a desperate howl echoing across the harbour. He took a final, weary breath.

"Toothless," he murmured as he hit the water.

He felt a sudden pain in his left leg, followed almost immediately by pain in his back and head, and then the black water closed over him. He saw the light fading above him and felt the air leave his lungs. He didn't even struggle. What was the point?

His sight was fading but two green lights were closing on him. His eyes closed as a sudden pain in his left arm made him exclaim and lose the last of the air from his lungs. Water flooded in as he felt a wrenching pain in the arm and then he gave up.

Toothless undulated furiously towards the surface, his jaws clamped on Hiccup's arm. The boy was dragged up rapidly and the dragon erupted from the cold water with a ferocious flap of the wings, depositing Hiccup hard on the dock. Dripping, Toothless nudged the limp shape urgently as Stormfly landed by him with a shriek and Astrid jumped down, throwing herself to her knees by Hiccup.

He was pale and limp, not breathing. Astrid shook him hard and hit him on the chest, hoping to force the water from his lungs. Then she shook him again and gave him once last blow on his chest. He gave a sudden cough, water trickling from his nose and he rolled over, vomiting water and heaving for breath. Tenderly, Astrid leaned forward, her hand gently on his back as he heaved and spluttered, his head bowed. He was breathing painfully as he finally composed himself.

"You shouldn't have bothered," he said hoarsely. "He'll take me back to Outcast Island and just kill me there."

"I didn't save you," Astrid said and then Toothless nudged the battered boy and gave his rumbling croon. Hiccup's head snapped up and his eyes widened.

"Bud," he murmured and warily stretched his hand towards the dragon. After his horrible few weeks in exile, he was scared that even his dragon would reject him. But Toothless was the one person who had never understood why Hiccup had been sent away and wasn't letting the boy go again. He pressed his nose hard against the outstretched hand and then nuzzled his Viking hard. Wincing in pain, Hiccup dragged himself to his knees and wrapped his arms around the blunt muzzle, buried his face against Toothless and began to weep.

For a long moment, Astrid watched, helpless. Huge sobs shuddered through him and he clung to the dragon like a child clinging to a parent. Finally, exhausted with misery, he sagged and Astrid laid a hand on on his back. He flinched. Then he clutched Toothless harder as a footstep sounded behind him...and the limping thud of a peg leg. With a shudder, he lifted his head.

"Hey, Gobber," he said. The big blacksmith leaned forward and inspected the huddled, dripping shape.

"Laddie, you have to come up the Great Hall," he said gruffly. Typical Gobber: incapable of small talk. "We need to sort this out." Hiccup began to shake, hard. He shook his head.

"What's to sort out?" he asked hoarsely. "I was thrown out of the tribe and given to the Outcasts. Dagur made me a slave and possession of the Berserkers. Everyone here calls me a traitor. I am still alive so Dagur will demand me back." He gave dry sob and clutched tighter to Toothless. "Gods, I know he's going to be so mad..." His voice had dropped to a tiny, fearful whisper and the blacksmith shook his head.

"That was an order, by the way," he added gruffly. He was genuinely fond of the boy and didn't want to kick this battered and wretched boy when he was this down. Hiccup gave a gulp, then painfully used Toothless to lever himself to his feet-and then he cried out in pain. He clutched desperately at his stump.

"My leg," he gasped. He grimaced in pain. "I think my prosthesis hit the water first..." He leaned forward and whimpered. Astrid rocked to her feet and gently took his hand.

"Stormfly and I will fly you up," she told him and then looked at Gobber. The big man gave a grin.

"I can do with the exercise," he grinned, "Toothless will race up as well after you, laddie. I guess he won't want to let you out of his sight." Hiccup glanced up with a pained smile as the big blacksmith helped him into Stormfly.

"It's okay, bud-Great Hall!" Hiccup called and the Night Fury galloped up the ramp with an impatient roar. Hiccup warily held Astrid's waist very gently as she kicked her dragon into the air and they soared up the cliffs and circled over Berk, before heading to the very threshold of the Great Hall. Several elders were waiting and Hiccup cringed as Magnus scowled at him and motioned the guards the grab his arms as he slid painfully off the Deadly Nadder. He was soaking and battered but they held his arms roughly. He winced as Astrid jumped down.

"Hey! There's no need for that!" she protested.

"He's a a traitor and a Berserker slave," Magnus snarled. "He is an enemy of Berk!" Hiccup felt a sudden crushing pain in his heart and almost couldn't breathe. He blinked and hated himself for the tears that burned his eyes and beaded his dark lashes. He swallowed hard.

"I am not a traitor," he said in a low voice. He was dragged into the Hall but a sudden pall of silence fell as he was dragged towards the main dais. Stoick and his Elders were there, with Dagur and his entourage and Lars all under armed guard. The Berserker gave a broad grin as the dripping and dishevelled shape was shoved forward, Hiccup stumbled but the painful grip on his arms held him up. He winced.

"Oh good-I see you brought my slave back!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "Hand him over. He's mine!"


	16. It can't be my home

"Oh good-I see you brought my slave back!" Dagur exclaimed cheerfully, his expression sadistic and hand lingering over the handle of his whip. "Hand him over. He's mine!"

Hiccup shuddered but was mercilessly thrust forward and went rigid as Savage grabbed his arm.

"I can't wait to watch what Dagur does with you now, you little traitor!" he hissed and cuffed the boy so hard he saw stars and sagged. He winced. "I'll whip you myself!" the outcast added, seeing the pleasing flash of fear in the boy's dazed eyes.

"Sir, we have something to say!" Astrid announced. The other riders stood at her back. Stoick scowled and Dagur gave a low snarl.

"This is grown up business!" he shouted.

"I don't want to..." Stoick growled at them.

"Sir! You were wrong to condemn and exile Hiccup when it was obvious the evidence against him is false!" Astrid insisted spiritedly. "We have all worked to prove that what you were shown was false!" Hiccup dropped his head.

"He had been condemned and cast out..." Stoick began but Snotlout walked forward.

"He's here, now! We all know that he is innocent and this is your chance to do right by him!" he argued brashly. Stoick scowled at the boy but felt he had to listen to his heir. It was, after all, the first halfway intelligent thing Snotlout had actually said. The Berserker watched his face and then threw his hands up in mock horror.

"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed. "Really? You kick the runt out, you send him to the Outcasts when you know how much they want to harm him? Sorry to remind you, Stoick, but you didn't want him-so I took him and when you send me back to my Armada, he will be dragged on along with me!" He grabbed the dishevelled auburn hair and pulled the boy towards him. Hiccup's eyes widened with terror and he swallowed once. Dagur deliberately stroked his cheek and neck as he went rigid, his eyes pleading. Stoick scowled at the scene then turned away, leaving his son to shudder as the Berserker Chief dug his teeth brutally into the boy's burnt shoulder.

"Oops," he said as the boy gave a strangled scream.

"Sir," Astrid said sternly. "We warned you about Lars and you didn't listen. He almost killed you this afternoon. Will you listen to us now before you make another catastrophic mistake?" Stoick spun back and his face was scarlet with rage but he forced himself to accept her point. She had clearly invested a lot in this effort and she was a good Viking. He nodded curtly.

"Speak," he growled. His expression remained sceptical when they calmly and determinedly demonstrated their evidence. His brow furrowed as he saw the comparisons of the two burns with the evidence where he was attacked and saw the drawing. Fishlegs was in turn squeaky with anxiety and enthusiastic about his subject, suddenly going into intricate details of heat signatures and breadth of flame spread. Dagur rolled his eyes.

"Pass my axe," he said with a deliberate yawn. "BORING!" Snotlout and Astrid concisely summarised the discussion with Gothi and then the door creaked as the tiny Elder walked in, her staff towering over her small, rotund shape. Gobber panted in after her and helped Fishlegs translate her scratches on the floor, confirming everything that had been said-and the only person who had obtained the poison Stoick had been given-Lars.

Fishlegs paused then showed him Hiccup's journal. The incriminating diagram was compared to Hiccup's other diagrams and his technical sketches for Toothless's tail. The difference in style and detail were pointed out but most of the Elders were looking confused.

"Hiccup couldn't have drawn them," Tuffnut explained suddenly. Then he held up two pictures of himself-both of them pretty bad. "This one..." And he wafted the picture in his right hand, "was drawn with my right hand and the other..." he waved the other picture, even worse, "with my left." He grinned. "It's obvious!" he added.

A wall of blank faces met his exclamation. Ruffnut gave an exaggerated sigh.

"Hiccup is left handed," she said. "In the left handed picture, the shading goes this way..." She demonstrated, "but it's opposite in the right handed drawing." She waved at the supposed diagram of the attack. The shading was clearly right-handed, the opposite of Hiccup's drawing style.

"Those diagrams were never drawn by Hiccup," Fishlegs added.

Finally, the twins revealed their observation of Lars's departure on an Outcast ship.

"Lies!" Lars snarled. "I undertook the task you set me and delivered. I never..."

"YOU TRIED TO STAB ME IN THE BACK!" Stoick roared. "Traitor!"

He raised his axe and stabbed it towards Lars.

"You are Cast Out. And you...and you!" he roared, including Lars' friends who had stood behind him, cutting the Chief off from help. "Take them to the cells! They can leave with Dagur!"

The Berserker looked up. He tugged painfully on Hiccup's hair and the boy hardly dared breathe. "I could always use the company," he said in a bored voice. "The boy doesn't speak much. Very poor pillow talk-just snivels and cries for his dragon." Hiccup winced. Stoick narrowed his eyes.

"I told you!" Snotlout said superiorly. "Sir-he would never betray you! Look, he always does what he's asked, he is first to come if anything happens and he is proud to be your son!" Stoick stared at him then shook his head. Gobber walked forward.

"Who warned you, Stoick?" he asked softly. The Chief's eyes narrowed. He swung his gaze finally to inspect the thin, battered shape shivering in Dagur's grasp. Hiccup's eyes were closed, his face resigned and weary. There was defeat in his entire posture.

"Hiccup?" the Chief murmured. The boy's eyes flickered open and there was fear and a strong hint of longing in the dark green gaze. "Son?" A jerk ran through the boy and he struggled in Dagur's grasp.

"No!" he said suddenly. "No! I'm not your son! You've made it clear that I am not your son. You have disowned me...twice!" He took a shuddering breath. "And do you have ANY idea how that feels?" Dagur's grasp tightened on his raw shoulder. He grimaced and fell silent. Dagur leaned close to him, his voice cruel.

"Ooh! Still a bit of spirit in there. We'll have to whip that out of you, slave! That thought makes me all tingly!" Stoick turned to him, his eyes furious as the boy trembled at the words and dropped his head, staring at the floor with a cowed expression. His throat bobbed as he fought tears.

"Let...him...go..." the Chief snarled. Dagur's crazed gaze flattened.

"You threw him aside-and now he's mine!" he hissed. "Mine to use and abuse as I see fit-eh, Stoick? But what do you care? You cast him out and sent him to Outcast Island. Surely you knew he would be beaten and tortured-if he wasn't killed outright! You decided that was all he was worth." His fingers dug far harder into the burn and Hiccup gasped quietly, sagging. "So, now do you want to buy my slave, Stoick?"

The riders all stared at their Chief, their eyes lingering on the battered shape of their friend. The plaintive roars of Toothless, outside the closed doors, echoed through the hall. Tears streamed down his bruised cheeks as Hiccup took a gulping breath.

"Look after Toothless," he whimpered.

And then the doors burst open and the Night Fury erupted in, roaring and growling, his pupils narrowed to tight slits and wings half-unfurled. His tail whipped back and forth, slapping aside anyone who tried to get in his way, his head lowered and mouth filled with plasma as he faced the Berserker. Dagur hefted the sagging boy in front of him like a human shield.

"I'll trade you the boy for the dragon!" he sneered.

"No!" Hiccup cried and Dagur slammed him to the ground brutally. And in that moment, Toothless fired. It wasn't a huge blast, but it was powerful and accurate, slamming Dagur a dozen yards back and enabling the riders to rush forward and snatch their friend from the floor, hauling him away. He struggled dazedly and looked around desperately for his dragon. And Toothless was there, nuzzling and licking the beaten shape, protectively curling his tail around his beloved rider.

"Go now-and take those traitors with you, Dagur!" Stoick shouted. "Get off Berk or I will forget about your Armada and send you to join your father!"

"And my slave?"

"I will take him as a price for your attack under the flag of truce!" Stoick snapped.

"Ooh...you want him too!" Dagur taunted him. "I always suspected you were a little too fond of the boy..." Stoick's massive fists clenched.

"The boy stays!" he roared.

"So what are you going to do with him? I've spent a lot of effort breaking him in!" Dagur shouted, his hand on his sword.

"I will dispose of him as I see fit!" Stoick snarled.

"He's mine!" Dagur hissed. "Marked and broken in. If you want him, you pay for him. Otherwise, the moment he sets foot off Berk, he will be captured and brought back to my bed" Stoick froze. What Dagur said was the truth: Hiccup was marked. He nodded curtly and gestured. Magnus brought a small chest of coins and Stoick dug a hand in, dropping a small number of silver coins into Dagur's grasp.

"Here," he growled. Dagur scowled.

"Rather a low price after all the effort I have put into breaking him." His tone was whiny. Stoick cast a dismissive glance across the boy. His tone was crushing in its dismissal.

"He's a runt, a skinny weakling with only one leg. He's not going to be able to work hard and you've already broken his hide and his spirit. And...he's no longer fresh. He's not worth any more. That's a generous price. Take it and get off my island!"

Seeing the riders, Warriors and dragons of Berk aligned against him, Dagur reluctantly closed his hands around the coins and headed for the door, then paused.

"Don't get comfortable, slave!" he called. "You are a Berserker and you are mine. And one day soon, I will get you back in my hands...where you belong!"

The door slammed as he left, escorted by a large phalanx of Berk guards. Hiccup clung onto his dragon and nuzzled Toothless. "Thanks, bud," he murmured. "Thor, I've missed you!" Then he shyly looked at his friends. "And thanks, guys. That-that was..." He swallowed and blinked hard. He stared at the floor and tried to compose himself. Astrid folded her arms.

"We never gave up on you!" she assured him. Then she smiled. "No matter how hard it was..." And she sighed as the twins started squabbling about who could punch the other hardest left-handed. He managed the tiniest smile.

"I did," he admitted wearily. Then he saw Stoick approach, the Elders at his side and Hiccup glanced up. He felt really vulnerable on his knees by Toothless so he gently laid his hands on the dragon's muzzle and painfully levered himself to his feet, his wince of pain obvious. Stoick fiddled with the pommel of his sword, looking uncomfortable.

"Son..." he began but Hiccup shook his head, his eyes suddenly fired with defensive anger.

"No, sir!" he shot back, his voice harsher than he had intended. But the pain in his chest was terrible as he faced his father. "You have told me that I am NOT your son-twice. I-I thought that wh-when I fought the Red Death, when I saved the villagers, you might possibly come to like me. That you might even love me. I know I am a disappointing son. I know I'm not big or strong. But I tried to protect Berk. I-I did everything you asked. I fought Outcasts and dragons to help save our island. I-I thought you trusted me...but you believed I would hurt you."

"I had to believe the evidence!" Stoick told him shortly.

"I wouldn't," Hiccup told him flatly. "I-I would never believe such a horrible thing of you, no matter how much 'evidence' you showed me. You said you had been warned about Lars but you didn't want to believe it. So why would you not believe your son? Why did you want to believe I would hurt you?"

"I had to act in the best interests of Berk!" Stoick told him sternly. Hiccup flinched.

"By sending me Savage and Dagur to beat and whip and starve me? By making Snotlout your heir? By never believing me? By not loving me?" he asked desperately, his voice breaking.

"Son..."

"PLEASE don't call me that!" Hiccup begged. "Da...sir...don't pretend nothing has happened! Too much has and I-I-I d-don't think I-I could just forget it. I-I'm s-sorry but ...I can't j-just carry on l-like n-normal..." And tears slid down his ashen face.

"Hiccup...you know I have to act as Chief..." Stoick told him sternly.

"Not as a father," Hiccup mumbled, cuffing the tears off his face. "Never as a father! Why do you never believe me? Why-why do you always think the worst of me?"

"Because you spent so much time disobeying me," the Chief growled. Part of him wanted to reassure his beaten son but the larger part of him-the gruff and hard Chief of Berk-resented the very public argument and criticism. "By Odin, boy-your disobedience almost destroyed Berk so many times! You risked your life and that of your friends too many times. You're not a proper Viking and never will be. Why did I believe this of you? Because you have defied me so often!" The final words were hard and ruthless and Hiccup flinched as if he had been struck. He dropped his head and his breathing was ragged.

"So I need to leave and go back to Dagur?" he asked faintly, his eyes wide with betrayal. Stoick sighed. He had purchased the boy's freedom to stay on Berk but his status was something of a problem. Branded and outcast from the Hooligans, Hiccup was still technically a Berserker.

"You joined his tribe," he told the boy ruthlessly. Hiccup's face snapped up, his eyes shining.

"You think I wanted to become one of Dagur's men, to put myself at his mercy?" he asked bitterly. "You think I didn't fight and struggle as he pressed the brand into my shoulder. You think I didn't scream and pray to Thor for it not to happen?" His voice was choked with anger and utter despair. "You should have given me every harsh punishment you wanted if you thought I was disobedient but you sent me to die!"

"But you have served Dagur as his slave, have done everything he demanded..." Magnus added. Hiccup stared up pleadingly at the accusing, condemning tone, then he dropped to his knees and sobbed. Tears dripped from his face and his whole body shook with grief. Toothless growled and gently butted against the boys back and he yelped, twisting painfully away.

"I don't think he had a lot of choice," Gobber said quietly. "No matter what he did, I guess his choice was to obey or suffer the consequences. Including being whipped and branded. He's a boy. And he's still...small. Do you think he could fought off those Berserkers all on his own?"

"He should have tried!" Magnus snapped. Another sob shuddered through him. Stoick stared at the slumped shape.

"He did," he said in softer voice. "But he never stood a chance!"

"So I have to go back?" Hiccup whispered. Stoick opened his mouth to reassure the boy but the Elders had other ideas.

"He's a traitor!" Magnus growled. "He served the Berserker Chief. I am sure he betrayed Berk to him. And you saw what they..." Hiccup groaned.

"He knew that you were to be ambushed and he said nothing!" Hoark added, shouting fiercely. Astrid jumped forward, here eyes angry.

"Hey-that's not fair!" she cried. "You saw him when they arrived. You all shouted that he couldn't even set foot on Berk. He was threatened by Savage. The Chief couldn't even look at him. How exactly was he to let anyone know there was any threat? But he told me and then he warned Stoick...just in time. And Dagur threw him from the upper defences for his intervention. He only survived because Toothless dived after him!" The dragon crooned gently and nuzzled his rider gently. Automatically, he stroked the blunt muzzle, resting his damp face against the scaly nose.

"You can't make him go!" Snotlout argued. "Look, I know how pathetic and weak he is, but he survived a really tough time to make it back here and he alerted us when he could see that Lars was back..." He frowned.

"You knew Lars was a traitor!" Astrid added, inspecting Hiccup's face. He nodded.

"He came to Outcast Island, about two days ago?" he murmured. The Riders shared glances. "Dagur made sure I knew who had set me up and ensured I ended up there." He rubbed the back of his neck. "He-he wanted to kill my d...the Chief..." He stared at the floor at the instinctive slip. "And kill all the dragons too. I...I tried to go for him, I was angry at the betrayal but all it earned..." He stopped and clenched his hands. "It wasn't worth it," he added in a small voice, unconsciously moving his shoulders at the memory of the lash. "But when I saw Lars in the Great Hall, I knew he would try to kill D...the Chief..." He flushed. "And I had to tell Astrid."

"Why not tell me?" Stoick asked in a low voice. Hiccup raised his battered face and stared at him incredulously.

"You wouldn't even look at me," he said sharply, his eyes wide with betrayal. "You thought I was a traitor. Would you hear a word I said? Or would you just watch Dagur beat me senseless for trying to speak with you?" Stoick winced. The casual, matter-of-fact acceptance of such cruelty made him cringe inwardly. Especially as the observation was actually true. He inspected the slumped shape and walked forward. Hiccup flinched, turning his head away as if expecting a blow. Stoick froze.

"Son..." he began and Hiccup glanced up sharply.

"Stop calling me that!" he begged. "You cast me aside. You gave away everything I had. You replaced me as your heir. You sent me to die on Outcast Island. You can't just act as if nothing has happened!"

"You keep almost calling me 'Dad'," Stoick pointed out. Hiccup's cheeks warmed with a flush.

"Almost the only thing that kept me alive was hanging onto the memory of who I was...the son of Stoick the Vast, rider of Toothless, a Viking of Berk," he revealed in a shamed voice. "But when I got here, I could see you no longer cared. I wasn't your son. The people of Berk called me traitor...and are still murmuring the word," he added, hearing the whispers. "Toothless is all I have left."

"Ah-hem!" Astrid said loudly, folding her arms and glaring at the kneeling boy. He glanced up and a slightly crooked smile lifted his lips.

"And my friends, who came through for me," he whispered. Stoick glanced at the Elders.

"My...this boy...is not a traitor," he announced. "The evidence was forged. He was wrongly accused and condemned. He is no longer Cast Out. He can return to Berk!"

There were cheers and shouts from the riders and even the majority of the watching Vikings gave a murmur of approval. But not all. Hiccup sighed as Fishlegs and Astrid pulled him to his feet.

"Wow-he's really beaten up!" Tuffnut noted admiringly. Hiccup cast him a jaundiced look. His leg was really hurting and he longed to lie down. He just wanted to be with his friends and his dragon. But the next words had him reeling.

"Come home, son," Stoick said. He stumbled back a pace and leaned against the Night Fury.

"Don't you get it?" he said wildly. "It can't be my home! Any more than you are my father. I..." He paused breathing hard. The horrific memories of that visit to his former bedroom with Dagur were far too vivid to allow Hiccup to go anywhere near the place. "I would like to stay on Berk, sir...but I will stay with Toothless in the Arena. He never let me down. He never cast me aside!"

Stoick stared at the skinny, battered shape and realised he could order the boy to his home, could carry him screaming and pleading up to the room where Dagur had raped him. And Stoick, unable to move, had heard the whole assault: from the boy's pleading and sobs to his anguished cries of pain and Dagur's triumphant and taunting words as he completed the act. He could order this boy around and maybe, this cowed and beaten boy would comply. But there was still a tiny flash of the stubborn resolve that had marked the boy's disobedience and defiance: the last vestiges of his spirit. Stoick guessed forcing the boy into the house would break him. So he nodded.

"So be it," he growled and turned away.

Hiccup stared after him. The words had a harsh, final ring that offered no hope of any forgiveness for the boy. He was allowed to stay and his exile had been revoked but Hiccup had heard mutters that some still believed he was not fit to remain on the island. Slowly, he turned to the door and leaned hard on his dragon.

"Let's go, bud," he murmured.


	17. Wanted and Unwanted

The arena was cold and lonely but Toothless curled around him and he felt safer than he had for weeks with the Night Fury watching over him. No one was trying to beat or rape him, no one was shouting at him or trying to cow him. With a sigh, he snuggled against Toothless and his eyes closed. He slept through until dawn when he awoke, cold and shivering. For a moment, he clung to his dragon but Toothless wanted to carry on sleeping so he rose and limped slowly round the arena.

The place was so familiar, the flood of memories so overwhelming he stumbled and had to lean against the doorway. He blinked and scolded himself fiercely. He was back home and he had to try to act like a proper Viking, not the snivelling wretch he seemed to have become. He balled his fists and pushed himself to his feet. He needed to contribute because the Hooligans wouldn't feed and tolerate him if he did nothing. Of course, when he was the son of the Chief, he was entitled to protection but now... He wrapped his arms around his shivering body and limped up the hill.

The forge was open and Gobber was cheerily poking at the fire, singing loudly and horribly out of tune. The boy limped slowly almost to the door and then paused, hanging back. He trusted Gobber but he was too wounded, too uncertain to risk rejection again. He paused for a long moment until the blacksmith turned and saw him. He grinned.

"Hey, laddie!" he greeted cheerily. "How are things doing?" Hiccup took a shuddering breath. Now the moment had arrived, his courage seemed to have deserted him. Gobber had believed that he would try to kill his Dad as well. He stared at the ground and his battered cheeks flushed slightly.

"Fine, I guess," he mumbled warily. "I-I was w-wondering, Gobber, if you-you had f-found another apprentice?" And his green eyes peeked up, the lashes fluttering with the hopeful gaze before he stared shyly at the floor again. Gobber stared at the boy and read a lot of things in the posture he didn't want to believe. Hiccup was scared, afraid to be rejected. He didn't believe anyone here would help him. And he was afraid that the response would be violent. That one hurt Gobber most of all. He would never hurt Hiccup, who had been like a son to him. But what he had survived the past few weeks had damaged him enough that his default had turned from trust to fear.

"No, laddie, I was waiting for you," Gobber told him. Hiccup's eyes flicked up again and there was surprise and definite hope in them now.

"Then-then I can come-come back?" he stammered. He normally had it pretty well under control but the boy was struggling worse now. Gobber smiled.

"Thor knows, I could use the help in the shop!" he grinned. "That's if you can fit it into your schedule?"

Hiccup burst into tears. He had been dreading asking for his job back and the easy normality of Gobber's response was both miraculous and overwhelming. Sobs juddered though him and he pressed his hands to his face.

"Hiccup! Laddie! What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, setting down his poker and limping to the boy. Hiccup cringed away.

"Thank-thank you!" he sobbed. Gobber stared at him for a moment: he was big, brash, eccentric and outrageous but he was also kindly, perceptive and generous.

"You thought I would reject you," he realised. "That I wouldn't have you back because of what happened...of what you suffered." A tiny nod answered him. Gobber sighed. "Hiccup, it was obvious you hated and resisted everything Dagur did to you. We all saw you fighting him. We saw how you struggled." Hiccup's throat worked, the necklace of black and purple bruises pitiful.

"So everyone knows?" he asked timidly. Gobber shrugged.

"No, only your father...and me...and the Elders...and Fishlegs and Astrid...and Silent Sven...um, actually that means..."

"Everyone knows," Hiccup said tonelessly. "They all know I'm a slave and now they all now that I was raped." He buried his face in his hands again. "Gobber, I..." So the blacksmith closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around the boy. Hiccup stiffened and his eyes widened in terror. He began to shake his head but Gobber stared into his wild eyes and made a few shhhing noises until he collapsed against him, the sobs wracking his abused shape.

"Laddie, if I could take it away, I would," Gobber assured him softly. "I won't reject you. I won't let them hurt you any more." Hiccup sobbed against him until his grief was finally spent. Then he sagged, embarrassed.

"Sorry," he murmured. Gobber shrugged.

"Cmon, lad-let's see if we can you some breakfast," he said gently.

Hiccup found working in the forge a steadying dose of normality, the quiet ribbing of his boss a welcome reminder of his previous life. Gobber took him to eat in the Great Hall and the boy picked at his food, sitting with his back carefully to the wall, his ears open to the murmurs of the villagers. A few were positive but word had gotten round and amid the whispers of murderer and traitor, new names had been added: slave and slut. He winced as he heard the words and stared in despair at his plate of stew. Suddenly, he had lost his appetite.

He stared around and saw dark, unfriendly eyes inspecting him, as if he was about to attack the Chief once more. In Berk, any hint of wrongdoing or accusation lasted forever but any good action-oh, that seemed to have a very short shelf life! Hiccup had saved the village, ended the war with the dragons, slain the Red Death, fought Outcasts and rogue dragons but the fact he had been exiled-wrongly, as it turned out-erased anything positive he had ever done. The fact they still called him a murderer and traitor just meant that for some people, he could never be forgiven. Even if it was a lie and I was completely innocent. He closed his eyes in misery and stared at the table as Gobber ate noisily, chatting loudly to the boy. Hiccup swallowed a large gulp of his watered down ale and managed to twitch the side of his face in a slight smile at the tall tale his boss was proclaiming. But other eyes were unfriendly and as he left, a boot hooked his metal leg from under him and he slammed to the ground. He groaned and lay still for a moment, winded. He blinked and then slowly pushed himself up to his knees, catching a crude comment. Achingly, he clambered up, steadying himself with a hand on a table that had men muttering hostilely for him to remove his hand. He snatched his hands away, mumbling apologies and his cheeks heating. Then he walked, head down, to the door.

"Berserker slave!" He flinched and walked determinedly down the hall.

What did you expect, Hiccup? Everyone to hang out the flags and throw a party for your return? He sighed. His inner voice was a lot crueller than he would like but it was correct. He limped down the hill. He really wanted to see Gothi for some ointment for his stump but he guessed he hadn't earned the right. He stalked rapidly down to the forge and only relaxed once he was safely back in the shop. Gobber did not arrive for a while, but Hiccup had already found another problem.

Many of the villagers wouldn't even acknowledge his existence and though he politely asked them what he could do for them, they looked straight through him or asked when Gobber would return. He cringed inwardly and shrugged.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "He-he did not tell me..." The bulky farmer gave a scowl of annoyance and stomped off and other others cast him a mouthful of abuse before leaving. Only one person remained, her eyes bright and smile genuine.

"Could you sharpen my axe, Hiccup?" Astrid smiled. He felt the tension that had knotted his whole body ease a little and he nodded, his throat thick with emotion. He took her beloved axe from her and carefully took it to the grindstone, expertly sharpening the blade, as he had so many times. Professionally, the gave the blade and handle a polish, then handed it back. She nodded. "You okay?" she whispered urgently. He gave a lopsided smile that never reached his sad green eyes.

"I'm fine," he lied, though the words of the others had hurt him badly. She pecked him on the cheek and then ran off, clutching her axe. It hadn't needed sharpening-they both knew that-but it had been a kind gesture that had demonstrated her trust in the boy.

"I hope you got more for the service than that!" Gobber grumbled, coming up behind him. He yelped and jumped, his heart almost leaping out of his chest. He turned, his eyes wide and frightened.

"Gobber-please don't sneak up behind me!" he implored the big blacksmith. "At least, not at the moment!" The older man frowned, the clapped Hiccup so hard on the shoulders felt sure he would have split his most recent whip-lashes. He grimaced and jerked away.

"I'll try to remember, laddie," he said with a little chagrin and then peered around his shop. "Where is everyone?" Hiccup winced.

"I-I may be bad for business, Gobber," he said in a heavy voice. "I doubt putting Alvin in the shop could have a worse effect on business!" The blacksmith gave a hearty laugh.

"I'm the only blacksmith in the village," he said brashly. "They'll be back!" And then he turned to the anvil, deftly unscrewing his hook prosthesis and replacing it with his trusty hammer. Hiccup inspected the floor, his hair obscuring his eyes. The blacksmith looked at him and frowned. "Laddie?" Hiccup scuffed his foot on the floor.

"I-I don't want to damage you," he said wretchedly. "You have been kind to me and I know that no one w-wants me here." Gobber scowled at him.

"I want you here!" he said clearly. "Laddie, I've known you since I was born. I made your diapers! I know how you are hurting but things will get better!" He paused. "Now-back to work!" Hiccup gave a wan smile and turned back to the sword he was repairing.

He heard Gobber arguing loud enough to hear above the clangs of his hammer. He lifted his head and stared as the blacksmith leaned forward. "I'll employ whoever I want, Dag!" he growled. "The boy had worked for me since he was eight and is an excellent blacksmith. He's looked after your orders in the past!"

"Well, I don't want him touching them now!" Dag growled. "Berserker slave!" Hiccup instinctively clutched at his torn shoulder, trying to drag the rent fabric over his ugly brand, shrinking inwardly. Gobber was on the brink of exploding.

"He's not!" he bellowed. "He's the Chief's son and I've known him since..."

"He's a Berserker possession and he'll betray us like he betrayed the Chief!" Dag snarled. "He should have been handed back to them to dispose of! Filth!" And he stomped away. Gobber turned to speak to his apprentice, aware of the lack of noise. But the forge was empty.

He found Hiccup out the back, by his scrap iron pile. The boy was huddled up as small as he could make himself, as if he was trying to disappear. He gave a little whimper and buried his face in his knees. The boy was visibly shaking.

"Laddie?"

"Go 'way." The voice was muffled and miserable. Gobber sighed.

"He's an idiot. He can wreck his own axe!" he snapped.

"S'my fault," the muffled voice continued. Gobber peered at him.

"How so?" he asked. Hiccup finally looked up and shrugged warily-his shoulders were still sore.

"Should've let him kill me," he said quietly. And Gobber gaped. The tone was utterly despondent. He grabbed the boy's arm and dragged him to his feet.

"Say that to Toothless!" he shouted. Hiccup flinched and pressed himself back against the wall of the forge, terrified. "Say that to your best friend, who would pine to death if you gave up. Say that to your friends in the Academy who worked to prove your innocence!" Hiccup was hyperventilating, his eyes wide with fear. It took him a long moment to realise that Gobber had stopped shouting at him and was staring in shock. Hiccup dropped his head and turned away, steeling himself for a blow.

"Hiccup..." The voice was a low groan of guilt and dismay. "My boy, I hadn't realised..." And finally, Hiccup looked up, his ashen face streaked with tears. He swallowed wretchedly.

"I know-proper Vikings don't show fear. They don't flinch like babies. And they don't cry," he said lightly, the tone self-recriminating. "But...at the moment...I'm not really very good with shouting and people coming up behind me...and people touching me. I hardly count as any sort of Viking anyway but..." The shame was obvious. Gobber sighed.

"Go and see your friends," he said. "Ride that dragon. It's been howling all the time it missed you. Be Hiccup again." The boy gave a wan smile.

"Not sure who he is any more," he admitted. But he gratefully walked down the hill and back to the arena, set at the bottom and side of the village. He could feel the pressure of eyes on him as he limped down. His stump was really painful but he forced himself to walk on and down the slope to the training arena.

A black shape came bounding at him and knocked him over, treating him to thorough licking. Hiccup landed with a cry of pain but tempered the groan with a smile of delight at his dragon's eager greeting. "Miss you too, bud," he laughed and scratched under the dragon's chin. Toothless playfully collapsed on him and he gave a louder groan, his battered body not ready to cope with being squashed by his friend. "Off!" he grunted and the Night Fury reluctantly got up.

"About time!" Snotlout said loudly, patting Hookfang. Hiccup slowly sat up and saw all his friends waiting.

"Didn't get told the start time," he muttered sarcastically. Tuffnut grinned before his sister hit him over the head and Astrid..smiled. Hiccup felt his heart flutter in response and he smiled back. Then he slowly got to his feet and patted Toothless's nose to settle him down: he was overexcited at having his rider back and desperate for a good flight. Snotlout clapped his hands.

"Right-what are we doing to today?" he asked. Hiccup looked up politely and then realised that that were looking at him. He gaped.

"Wh...me?" he gasped. "Are-are you kidding?"

"You are the head dragon trainer!" Fishlegs told him.

"What else are you useful for?" Snotlout sneered.

"Yeah-can we use Tuffnut as bait in the exercise?" Ruffnut called.

"Okay-as long as there's fire involved!" Tuffnut added. Hiccup petted Toothless as a way to calming himself-he was suddenly inexplicable angry.

"What-you thought I would be working on lesson plans in between being whipped and beaten and...oh gods, I really don't need this!" he exploded and threw himself into Toothless's saddle. But Astrid was running forward and caught his hand before he could get the Night Fury to launch.

"Hiccup!" she called urgently. He would have to shake her hand off him to take off and he didn't want to do that-she was the only person whose touch he didn't shy from. "Hiccup! They didn't mean it! They're just being...well, them!" she added lamely. He took a couple of angry breaths and the energy suddenly leeched out of him. He dropped his head.

"No, I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I-I really am grateful for everything you guys did." And he forced himself to stare over to his cousin. "Congratulations, Snotlout," he said tonelessly. The larger boy swelled in pride, as the new Heir to Berk. He was bold, big and brash-those B words Hiccup was useless at but which his father adored. The only one he could apparently manage was Berserker, or there were the D words that Hiccup specialised in: disgrace, disappointment, disaster.

"Thanks, Useless," Snotlout replied cockily, resurrecting Hiccup's old nickname-the one that had eaten at his self-confidence and pride for so many years. The boy dipped his head but the word didn't hurt quite as much this time-because others were hurting far worse. Astrid released his hand.

"I could use your help," she whispered. "I'm running out of ideas on how to keep them busy. You know the twins..." Hiccup gave a slight smile.

"Scavenger hunt," he murmured. "Send them out to find a list of items. First dragon back with the correct items wins."

"Whatever happened to it's not a competition?" she asked him sharply.

"Whatever happened to it's always a competition?" he retorted. "Whatever I try, you guys always turn it into a competition. So go ahead-knock yourselves out." He patted inside his battered vest and then looked stricken. "Do you have any paper and a charcoal?" he suddenly asked: all his possessions had been taken from him when he had been exiled. She smiled and went to Stormfly's saddle. She walked back with his notebook and charcoal. He gaped and felt tears spring to his eyes: he blinked them away determinedly.

"I thought you might need these," she said smugly and handed them over. It was all he could do not to hug them. He forced himself to take them with a genuine smile and scribble the list of items on a page which he tore out.

"There," he said softly and nodded. She went to explain the exercise to the others and they mounted up.

"You coming?" she called but he shook his head.

"Actually, I think I owe Toothless a long flight," he admitted. And then he kicked off, the tail opening as the Night Fury launched and zipped under the door-arch of the academy bowl. The familiar whistling of the Night Fury's wings sounded as they climbed hard, away from the other teens. And then Hiccup let Toothless go, letting the dragon lead and allowing his almost instinctive understanding of the dragon's flight to provide the tail control the Night Fury demanded as they soared high, above the clouds into the icy, thin air and then dived dizzyingly down toward the distant sea. Toothless skimmed the waves, splashing his rider, then flipped and zigged and zagged through the sea stacks, accelerating until he was almost at top speed. And Hiccup clung on, his body pressed against the saddle and neck, his arms locked to hold him on during the wild ride.

He allowed himself to feel the great dragon sculling through the skies of Berk, soaring, gliding, mastering the clouds. His face was cold and his eyes stung but he never felt so alive as when he was with his dragon. Up here, he wasn't the runt embarrassment of a Viking son, he wasn't the traitor or slave...he was Toothless's rider, the one title he still clung to with all his might.

Finally, Toothless sensed his exhaustion and gently swung them back towards the Academy. Hiccup's beaten shape had been thrown around by the ride and though he had felt elated, gods, it had hurt. His back and shoulder had been wrenched and pulled by every fierce change of direction and he had bitten down on his lip to prevent himself crying out from the pain. He had dreamed about this flight through all those nightmarish days and nights and by Thor, he would have paid any price to be here now. But he sagged with relief and exhaustion as they landed.

The others were back and he looked up to see an argument in progress. Astrid had won, with Snotlout second, though he had cheated by stealing two of Fishlegs' items. The twins were last, having not brought any of the items and instead, had somehow dropped a large and rather angry yak into the arena. He rolled his eyes and flipped his legs over Toothless's back. His hit the ground and they buckled.

Immediately, his friends were there, Snotlout and Tuffnut catching him before he could impact on the ground and holding the sagging boy up. He looked up muzzily: too many meals missed, too many days of hard labour or harder blows had drained his reserves dry and he frowned and tried to put his left leg down. He gave an incoherent moan and Snotlout held him up more firmly.

"You okay?" he whispered. Hiccup dipped his head. "You look like two day old porridge," his cousin added, trying to make him feel better. Hiccup had no idea what that might look like but it didn't sound good.

"A bit lightheaded," he admitted.

"He hurt his leg when he went into the harbour," Astrid said, looking closely at him. She peered at him. "Did you see Gothi?" He shook his head.

"Not sure it was allowed," he mumbled. She made an exasperated noise and sighed. "I just need some hot food, Astrid. Didn't eat much breakfast." The girl glanced at him and recalled the whispers. It must have been unpleasant to hear those all the time. Then she smiled.

"Let's all go!" she suggested and the teens enthusiastically agreed, mounting up and flying up to the Great Hall. The dragons spread out to sun themselves as they clambered up the long flight of stairs. When they walked into the Hall, the level of conversation dropped almost to nothing. Astrid and Snotlout shared a look because all eyes were on the skinny shape in the centre of the group, drooping and hunched, his eyes downcast. The hiss of the word went round the room.

Slave... Astrid lifted her chin and strode proudly forward and Snotlout could always look confident. But Hiccup looked self-conscious in his stained and tattered clothing, his dishevelled hair and battered face. He tugged wearily at the torn shoulder, trying to hide the slave brand. And then they got their meat and stew and settled down. Hiccup managed to find a seat with his back to a column. He looked nervous but determinedly ate the food. The others chattered but Astrid didn't miss the occasional nervous glance the boy gave, the flinch at the sound of steps behind him. He ate quickly and fearfully.

The teens found the meal awkward but determinedly continued to appear normal. They had worked hard to get their friend back and all were determined to behave as usual. They finished and rose together but as they moved to the door, a large farmer got up and deliberately knocked Hiccup aside. "Watch your step, slave!" he snarled.

"Hey!" Snotlout snapped. "You apologise!"

"Why? He's a slave!" the farmer sneered. "Bought and paid for! He shouldn't even be allowed to eat here!" And he barged past Snotlout. The teen made to go after him but Hiccup sighed.

"Leave it, 'Lout," he said heavily. "I-I'm just grateful to be back. I oughtta get to work or Gobber will think I've been exiled again!" His weak attempt at humour fell flat as his friends stared at him and he rubbed the back of his neck, as he did when he felt really awkward. Then he dipped his head and limped down the stairs. Astrid watched him and cursed: he had managed to prevent them taking him to Gothi. She watched as the Night Fury bounced up and walked down to the forge alongside his rider, his eyes fixed on the bowed little shape at his side. Hiccup walked quickly but painfully, his limp pathetic to observe. But what was more pathetic was his whole gait: he was hunched and submissive, his shoulders rounded and head down. He looked a beaten man.


	18. Astrid's surprise

On his return from his flight and time with the other Riders, Gobber contented himself with a mild comment which was met by a quiet grunt from the boy. Hiccup worked hard, his head down and eyes on his task. He ignored the comments from the customers and gave no sign that Gobber's hastily-adopted stock response ('no, don't worry, I haven't let him anywhere near your precious weapon') hurt him as much as it did. But he endured because he had no choice and at least Dagur wasn't pawing him or flaying him.

At the end of the day, he made a curious request of Gobber. "Could-could I have some warm water and soap, please, Gobber?" he asked quietly. The blacksmith looked at him thoughtfully. He wasn't a big bathing man but he knew Hiccup usually bathed daily to wash away the sweat and grime of the forge. He looked dishevelled and...well, grimy. Gobber wondered how long it had been since the boy had been given the chance to be clean and he nodded.

"Wait there, laddie-I'll see to it at once!" he said and scurried off to his home, adjacent to the shop to fetch his soap. Hiccup finished up his task and hung up his leather apron. Looking around, he grabbed the broom and aimlessly tidied the forge until Gobber reappeared, lugging a bucket of pleasantly warm water and a soap so hard it would have been easier to get lather from a rock. Hiccup smiled, dragged the bucket to the back of the shop, out of sight and quietly knelt down. He rolled his sleeves up and stared at the battered reflection: the person facing him looked like a scarecrow. Then he scrubbed his hands in the water and tried to wash them with the soap. It was hard work but he eventually managed few bubbles, enough to clean his hands and then he raised a feeble lather and scrubbed his face. He was partway through when a voice interrupted him:

"What the Hel are you doing?" it said. Hiccup leapt to his feet, his eyes wide and face shocked and fearful. He dropped the soap and scrambled back, managing to get a wall at his back before facing the bulky, scowling shape.

"Cl-cleaning up," he stammered, his heart racing. Spitelout eyed him like a cockroach. He gave a snarl.

"Why aren't you in chains and slaving for the Chief?" he demanded. Hiccup froze: technically-and it seemed to be a very important issue-he was actually his father's possession, meaning most of the villagers couldn't understand how he was free to roam the village.

"He-he hadn't ordered me to do anything, sir," he said meekly, wishing the man would go away. His uncle had been someone Hiccup really didn't like. The man was a bully, who was free with his hands and his belt, especially on the scrawny runt who was the Heir, the position his own son should have occupied. And now did.

"How would you know?" Spitelout snapped. "You haven't even asked him for his orders. If you were mine, I would ensure you were chained and made clear of your duties and what you owe..."

Oh, I know what a slave owes. Believe me, I know, Hiccup thought bitterly, a flashback of Dagur pressing him into the bed surging across his vision. He blinked twice.

"I-I understand, sir," he said quietly. Then Soutelout lunged forward, his hand grabbing Hiccup's bruised throat and lifting the boy off the ground. He gave a terrified gasp and struggled, his hands desperately closing on the ferocious grasp.

"My son is the Heir to Berk now!" he hissed into the boy's ear. "Stay away from him. If he is harmed, I will kill you. And if you so much as set foot in my house, I will flay the skin off your body before beating you senseless. Is that clear?" Hiccup managed the tiniest of nods, his eyes brilliant with terror. Spitelout looked at him in disgust and dropped him, walking away. Hiccup folded bonelessly, rubbing his neck gently. He bit his lip against the trembling that shook him and slowly got up, emptying the bucket and handing it and the soap back to Gobber.

"Th-thanks," he mumbled and walked out of the forge, staring at the hard ground. He felt uneasy, the day familiar and yet horribly unfamiliar. He had worked at the forge and flown with his friends...but it was all just...off. No one had treated him like a member of the tribe and the hostility had been really ferocious. He found himself shaking as he thought on the way he had been treated. And then Toothless bounced up to him. The Night Fury stopped, gave a little interrogative croon and then nuzzled the boy gently. Hiccup forced an unconvincing smile onto his ashen face, his freckles the only colour on his skin.

"It's okay, bud," he murmured. "It's just been a long day." And then he swung into the saddle. "Fly me down, bud," he added and they flew off to the Academy. Toothless bunched his muscles and two strong beats of his huge wings had them soaring up, over the plaza and spiralling lazily upwards, before banking gently around the perimeter of the harbour via what Hiccup had always termed 'the scenic route'. They landed to a silent Academy, his friends having already gone home. Painfully, Hiccup dismounted and again his metal leg almost gave on him. He clutched to the dragon firmly and gasped.

Toothless gave him a suspicious look.

"Just a little sore," he winced and allowed the dragon to take him to their pen. His eyes were burning with tears of pain as he watched Toothless warm the stone floor of his pen and curl up. Achingly, the boy sat by him and unstrapped his prosthesis. It really was ridiculous that he was scared to see Gothi. She had been at his birth, for Thor's sake! She wouldn't refuse him some ointment just to fix his abused stump.

Or would she? The treacherous voice nagging at the back of his mind reminded him of the events of the day and the hated words...slave...slut... He shook his head. He couldn't risk the rejection, couldn't risk any random violence against him. Not now. He knew that the wrong word, the wrong action could break him. Snap him like a twig. That was why he had skipped supper at the Great Hall, denying himself the food he needed: the words would distress him too much.

Some Viking you are! Scared to even go and eat for fear of being called names. Scared to see the healer in case she doesn't heal you. So what have you lost?

But he knew.

I am Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. I am the Rider of Toothless. And nothing more.

oOo

The next few days were much the same: cold wakings curled up against Toothless, skipped breakfast unless the others were already at the arena when he woke, lonely flights around the island, working at the forge to the disgust of the village, braving lunch with Gobber or one of the riders, sleeping alone with his dragon. He didn't go and see Gothi because his leg felt slightly better in the morning. And he was still scared of her refusal and rejection.

He also tried to avoid dragon training because he was scared of Spitelout: his father had no clue what the man had done to him over the years and Hiccup would never have told. He would never have been believed, for a start. Who would the great Chief believe? His loyal, beloved brother or his awkward, disappointing runt of a son? Hiccup knew the answer-and that if he even tried to speak with his father, he would earn the worst thrashing of his life. But he knew as well that Spitelout would carry out his threats. And that meant avoiding Snotlout.

But it also deprived him of his friends and though he tried, he still couldn't help smiling at them and helping Astrid run the training sessions. The boy was the most inventive and organised of the riders and even though he hadn't planned lessons, he found he had come up with some ideas as he lay curled in Toothless's wings. Their expectations had awakened some part of him he had forgotten existed and the Dragon Trainer was timidly making his presence felt. So, despite his intentions, he spent a couple of hours every day setting exercises or running drills before joining Gobber in the forge.

Gobber though, was worrying. Hiccup was a shadow of the boy he knew and loved, the boy he had helped raise. Hiccup was quiet, his eyes downcast and every inch of his body on alert. His replies were polite and respectful, calling Gobber 'sir' and only speaking when he was spoken to. But the big blacksmith wanted his friend back, the lively and sarcastic boy who would spiritedly chatter about his dragons, his friends, his inventions...even his hopes and dreams. This thin and battered replacement occasionally showed the faintest flash of spirit in an unguarded comment or dry response-until he realised what he had done. And it had hurt Gobber to see the green eyes widen in fear and his shoulders hunch and head duck, expecting a blow.

The blacksmith felt anger rise in his chest at the implications. The boy had obviously been subjected to a brutal regime of conditioning and abuse. He had been taught to be the slave Dagur wanted and he had learned very hard to obey. The boy had to be forced to eat and the blacksmith had to insist the boy finished his portion when they ate at lunchtime because he knew the lad wouldn't go back later. And, after that first time, he hadn't asked for any more water to wash with. Gobber knew that something had happened, someone had said something to the boy that had crushed his resolve and he glanced at the scrawny shape, hammering away at a sword. Something had to be done.

Hiccup glanced up as Astrid arrived and he fashioned a small smile. He did love Astrid but looking at her was getting painful because he more and more realised that all his dreams were never going to happen. She knew what had happened to him and that meant they could never be together. But he laid down his hammer and walked over.

"Can-can I help you, Milady?" he asked gently. He hadn't even realised he called her his pet name but she wouldn't shout or hit him so he felt fairly safe. She searched his bruised face and her heart softened. He was always awkward round her but he was kind and generous and she knew he currently felt really uncomfortable around the riders but he had helped her training them anyway.

"I think I can help you," she said with a smile.

"Wh-what?" he stammered.

"It's a surprise," she added. He stiffened. "A good one," she added. His mind whirled. What had she planned? And a sudden clutch of fear had him treacherously doubting her motives. Was she just luring him somewhere until he could be cornered and hurt by some of the less friendly villagers? And then he kicked himself. This was Astrid. And if he didn't trust her, then gods, he might as well just row himself back to Outcast Island and let Dagur rape him to death.

"Uh...a little wary of surprises," he admitted. "Will-will it hurt?" And she frowned.

"Of course not!" she snapped. He flinched. "Sorry," she said, her face guilty. "I won't hurt you, Hiccup. I just want to help. Come to my house after sun down. But don't bring Toothless. My Dad won't have dragons in the house. Even Stormfly had to stay outside." Worried, he nodded. He hated going anywhere without his dragon-Toothless was currently curled up at the back of the forge. She leaned forward and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "You need a bath," she murmured and walked away, hips swinging. Hiccup stared after her and gently raised a hand to his cheek.

He had taken Toothless back to the Arena and given him a huge basket of fish before wiping his hand on his leggings and slowly walking back up the hill. His leg was really sore but he ignored the pain, ignored all the clues he should have been picking up. He had always been really careful in caring for his amputation but he just didn't have any option. Then he stood at the door of the Hofferson house and warily knocked.

Astrid immediately opened the door and pulled him in. He stumbled and then gaped as she gestured towards the fire. Next to the fire pit, there was a tub, steaming and full of warm water. A large towel was folded by and a stool had a soap and a couple of jars of ointment. She smiled.

"I said you needed a bath!" she grinned. He backed away, his face shocked.

"N-no..." he murmured.

"You're kidding, right?" she challenged him, folding her arms. "You're filthy. Your clothes are filthy. Your hair looks like a birds nest. No wonder your leg is hurting if your stump hadn't been washed in gods know how long! You smell!"

He cringed and looked away. The words were almost certainly true but they still hurt. "No," he repeated. "Not-not that I don't want a bath...but I don't want you seeing...this..." And he gestured hopelessly at his body. He was inspecting the floor furiously now and she could see his eyelashes fluttering, his emerald eyes suspiciously bright.

"Oh, come on..." she began but he glanced up, his eyes definitely shining with utter shame.

"Please, Astrid," he begged her. "I suffered a lot of things I don't want to share with anyone. And that story is written all over me. I don't want you to see." His voice was cracking with emotion. She nodded and grabbed her axe and a small bag.

"Fine," she said more gently. "Il be sitting at the door with my axe-so no one disturbs you. But you need to give me your clothes before you get in so I can mend them. Deal?" He sighed.

"Deal," he said and waited until the door closed, before stripping his clothes off. They really were a state, stained with dirt and grease and blood. There were rents and rips and the left shoulder had almost been torn out, cruelly exposing his hated brand. He folded them and rested his boot by the tub. But he kept his prosthetic on as he wrapped the towel around his skinny shape and carried the clothes to the door. It creaked as he peered nervously out. Astrid was sitting there, her axe propped by her side and a sewing kit in her lap.

Astrid ? Sewing? Thor, she was serious!

She glanced curiously at him as he handed the rags over. There was another bucket of steaming warm water at her side and he felt guilty in asking her to sit in the cold outside her own home just so he could have a bath.

"I'll knock when I'm done," she promised.

"Er, thanks," he managed, then quietly closed the door. He limped across the floor towards the tub and gratefully unfastened the prosthetic, letting it drop to the floor with a clunk. He dropped the towel as well and massaged his stump tenderly. It was sore. The water looked inviting and he trailed a grimy hand in the water. It was just perfect but he felt a little anxious. His last whipping by Dagur had been the day they arrived back in Berk, a week ago, but the welts were still sore. His back had been repeatedly whipped and he had no clue what it looked like but he wasn't about to ask Astrid. He still had a tiny grain of pride left.

He sat on the edge and swung his legs over, then into the water. He gasped. Warmth seeped into his aching body and he realised how cold he had been. Slowly, he sank down and glanced down. He could see all his ribs, count the bruises and lacerations they had inflicted on him. And the brand was angry and red and puckering. He swallowed and he unfocussed his eyes, catching his reflection.

He looked gaunt, deep shadows beneath the haunted emerald eyes. His hair did look like a birds nest, the wild auburn thatch sticking in all directions. He reckoned weeks of grease, blood, spit, seawater and dragon saliva did little for it. And his skin...he peered at it. It was grimy. Determinedly, he grabbed the soap, a soft bar smelling of honeysuckle.

Gods, he was going to smell like Astrid.

Not that it mattered. He lathered up the soap and scrubbed his face, then arms and shoulders, taking care with his healing lashes and the hated brand. He ducked under the water to wet his hair and then grimly attacked the matted mess. And then he manoeuvred himself onto his knees, scrubbing his body carefully to wash the feel and memory of Dagur and Savage and every other Outcast and Berserker off him. He repeated twice more, trying to expunge the memories. Finally he turned to his legs and foot and tenderly washed the stump. He washed his hair again and then ran his fingers through it until it was at least untangled. Then he lay back, exhausted.

He was clean. But not really. To many in his tribe, he was irrevocably stained by slavery and abuse. He stared at his hands-small and skinny with long fingers calloused from working in the forge. He could work metal and leather, he could design and build weapons and dragon saddles. He was a rider and a trainer. And yet he felt almost utterly alone.

You could just go and see him. You could talk. You could beg to go back.

Not gonna happen.

He dug his hands into his hair and gave a slow sob. The Chief had visited Gobber a couple of times and hadn't even wasted a look at Hiccup, causing his innards to curl in shame. He wanted his Dad. He wanted his friends. He wanted his life back.

Not gonna happen, he repeated to himself sternly. Be a man. Be a Viking. Stop snivelling like a little child!

He curled his hands over the edge of the tub and painfully levered himself up and onto the edge. He grabbed the towel and dried himself off, his skin tingling from the scrubbing. Then he wrapped the towel around his middle, perching on the stool and smearing the ointments onto his burn and the other onto the stump. The burning eased somewhat and he gave a sigh. He had been neglecting himself and he slathered another handful on. And then he gazed at the fire. To be warm, to curl up and dry in front if the fire until Astrid was done... He hopped forward and carefully lowered himself to the fur rug on the floor, then lay achingly down, adjusting the towel and closing his eyes.

Astrid found him there when she returned from mending and washing his sorry clothes. Needlework was not her strong suit but she had persevered because it was Hiccup-almost friendless but still the kind, generous, caring boy she worried about. She hung the damp garments by the fire and then stared down at him. He was curled on the fur, the towel wrapped around him and she could see him for the first time.

He was actually pretty cute, his face relaxed in the way he couldn't when he as awake and afraid. His skin was warmed by the reflected firelight, his smattering of freckles just enough to highlight his fair skin. His hair was carelessly finger-combed and clean, the auburn gilded by the fire. And he was thin-gods, he was thin. Astrid could see all his ribs, his bones with almost no other flesh on his skinny frame. His skin was liberally marked with bruises and the whip marks had her eyes burning with tears. They covered his entire back, a horrible knot of crossing scars, most red and angry. And the brand was horrible and red as well.

She hesitated before waking him: he had so few places he could go and none that were warm and safe. He looked at peace, clean and warm. So she left his clothes to dry and tucked a blanket around his battered frame and smiled. He was worth the grief she would get off her parents.


	19. The Berk guard

Hiccup woke, stiff. He blinked and tried to piece where he was. He sat up warily and realised the fire was banked for the night and his clothes had been repaired and were hanging, dry, just by the fire. He winced as he reached for them.

"You owe her more thanks than you could ever repay," a gruff voice growled. Hiccup stared up and all the fears came back. He hunched his whipped shoulders and ducked his head, lowering his eyes in fear. It was Astrid's father.

"I-I know, sir," he replied softly. He rubbed his forehead. "She said she would wake me. I never meant to intrude, sir." The man walked closer and his eyes were distrustful. He was eyeing the boy as if he was an enemy and he self-consciously put his hand over the brand. His hair flopped over his face, and he found he was breathing hard.

"My daughter pleaded for me to allow you to spend the night here and I have granted her request," Hofferson said gruffly. His tone was very grudging and Hiccup read his own desire for the boy to go.

"You don't want me here," he said evenly.

"No. But Astrid begged on your behalf."

"She is a very good friend," Hiccup replied. Astrid...begging on his behalf? He wasn't sure if he should feel humiliated or honoured.

No, you know which it is.

"And you damage her." Hiccup painfully pushed himself to his foot, his prosthesis propped by the stool. The tub had been cleaned away. He hopped unsteadily to the stool and sat heavily, mechanically beginning to strap the prosthesis on.

"I know. But friendship-and kindness-are in very short supply, sir." He blinked hard. Gods, he couldn't start weeping again. "I will go. I think...I know that will be better for her. And you."

"The offer stands and it is genuine, no matter my own feelings," Hofferson told him. "You gave her Stormfly. You gave her adventure and battle. For my Astrid, that is the most precious thing she could have received. When she talked about her adventures, about her training, she talked of you. She never believed your treason. I think she still believes everything can be as it was." Hiccup grasped his mended tunic and slipped it over his head. He could feel the man's eyes flicking disdainfully at his beaten shape.

"And we-we both know that isn't going to happen, sir," Hiccup said wearily, hauling his leggings up and unwinding the towel. He folded it neatly and placed it by the fire to dry. He grabbed his boot and pulled it on. He fished out his notebook and scribbled a short note of thanks to his friend. He placed it on the towel and folded the blanket by it. Then he grasped the ointment for his leg and slowly rose to his feet. "Please, tell her...thanks. I don't want to cause any trouble."

And then he walked slowly to the door, pausing for a long moment at the threshold. Hofferson wondered if he was going to ask if he could stay. But the boy was steeling himself for the cold icy blast that met his face as he walked out and slowly closed the door. Hofferson stared at the note for a long moment and left it. The boy had seemed genuine: his daughter deserved her thanks-provided she never brought him home again.

oOo

Hiccup shivered as he limped slowly down the hill. It was cold and the frost was heavy on the grass. He was almost regretting turning down Mr Hofferson's almost kind offer of a bed for the night but he knew that he needed to be with Toothless: it was the only place he had felt safe since he got back. So he wrapped his arms around his body, dug his chin into his chest and picked up the pace-and almost ran into a large guard.

He stopped with a gasp and backed away, murmuring anxious apologies. He wasn't sure how the Berk Guards would react to him as a free man. The man peered down at him like a particularly nasty insect.

"Where are you going, slave?" he sneered. Hiccup gulped and took another small pace back.

"To-to the arena," he said quickly, ignoring the feeling of anxiety that crawled up his spine. He could hear footsteps behind him and that was something currently able to send him into a flat panic. "It's...it's where I'm staying...sir..." he finished. The second man shoved him forward and he yelped. His welts were still tender.

"Curfew," the second man growled.

"I'm-I'm sorry, sir..." he said quickly, feeling the panic rise in his throat. Thor, please make them let me go!

"Can't let traitors and Berserker slaves wander around, spying on the defences!" the first guard explained reasonably. Hiccup nodded wildly but the unfairness of the accusation struck him. He had earned a horrible series of forfeits for refusing Dagur the information.

"I-I understand," he stammered as the second man walked round inspect him. He grasped Hiccup's tunic and ran his hand over his throat, his touch lingering on his bruises.

"Looks like you enjoy it rough, slut," he said, a nasty smile twisting his lips. His hand slid down his chest, to his waist, then caressed his hips.

"Doesn't look like much but Dagur and he were at it like rabbits in the Chiefs House!" the first one said. The second one scowled.

"Don't like slaves...or Berserkers," he growled. His hand moved across Hiccup's hips and grasped his backside. He went rigid, his eyes widening and mouth drying in terror. He shook his head.

"Please, don't..." he murmured. The second man suddenly jerked Hiccup against him and ground his hips against the boy's stomach. He swallowed nervously and shook his head again.

"You're a slave so you do what you're told!" the first guard told him nastily.

"Er..." Hiccup managed, hyperventilating. "Why-why are you d-doing this?" The man leaned closer.

"So you want it from behind?" he breathed and Hiccup swung out with his metal leg, catching the man hard on the shin. He gave a cry and dropped Hiccup and in that moment, he ran for it. All thoughts of his very sore stump or the cold or the myriad of pains that shot through his body were banished because every sense was straining to listen for the two furious guards who were running after him. He knew he was at a disadvantage. He hadn't been particularly quick even before he had lost his leg but now, he knew he was losing ground to the two large and angry guards.

His prosthesis slid on a frozen patch of mud and his arms flailed, hands touching down briefly on the ground and stopping him face-planting. He scrabbled away but he could hear the guards closing. Then a hand snagged his arm and another clamped over his mouth. Frantic, he bit down hard and kicked the guard in the knee. He bellowed in rage and Hiccup broke free again, sprinting down the hill. The Academy was still a good way away, down the hill and away from the lower village. There were fewer houses here, by the shops and barns and storehouses for the harbour. Everyone he knew-Gobber, Astrid, the other riders...even Stoick-were in the upper village. He was running away from any help-but then he was alone in any case.

He was tackled furiously and slammed onto the frozen ground, scraping his chin and palms as he skidded. He kicked out but this time a strong hand swept him up, pressed across his chest holding him with his back to his captor. The sensation of being held helpless from behind was freaking him out and he flailed and thrashed desperately. The first guard appeared, panting and rubbing his bitten hand. He faced the writhing teen for a long moment, before treating the boy to a brutal backhand. A second appalling blow followed and Hiccup felt his vision smear with red stars. Blood trickled from his mouth and nose.

"I think we may have got off on the wrong foot," he said thickly. The grasp across his chest tightened.

"You're gonna pay for that!" the first guard said, rubbing his bitten hand. Hiccup gave a scared smile.

"Hey, I was just going to the arena to go to bed with my dragon!" he protested. "I-I meant no harm..."

"But you cause it!" the second guard snarled. "You're destructive, disobedient and you always get away with it. You've destroyed half the village, boy, but the Chief never even beat you for your crimes! You try to kill him, join the Berserkers and service Dagur the Deranged and still he welcomes you back with open arms. You are a traitor, a slave and a Berserker slut!" Hiccup was writhing and shaking his head.

"Where do I start with your wrongness?" he asked without much confidence. His gut was twisting with fear but he had defaulted to his sarcastic bravado as his last line of defence when all else was lost. And Thor, was it lost. "Boy, things must be slow if you think I'm the height of danger in the village!" His legs were kicking wildly but he was hitting nothing.

"So slow that your attack on us has earned you a proper punishment, for once," the man holding him snarled and threw the boy forward, kicking him hard in the gut as he staggered, trying to find his feet. A second kick dumped him on his back and he hissed in pain as he slammed onto his welts. He rolled desperately onto his side and painfully pushed himself back to his hands and knees. He cradled his gut and stared up, hyperventilating.

"Wow, you guys really need to get out more," he murmured. The first guard snagged his hair and forced his head up.

"We don't like slaves-especially Berserker slaves!" he snarled.

"I am not a Berserker!" Hiccup protested thickly, rubbing blood from his mouth with his hand.

"You are a slave!" the first guard sneered, grabbing his tunic and hauling him up. He slammed the boy against the wall of a storehouse. Hiccup fought frantically, crushed between the guard and the wall, but he couldn't get any purchase and was suddenly trapped. His eyes widened in fear and he struggled more wildly.

"Get off me!" he gasped urgently. The man ran his hand roughly down his body and stroked his hip sensually. His fingers slid round to knead his buttocks and then slid down his inner thighs.

"There's no Daddy here to protect his useless, destructive runt of a son!" he sneered. "Instead, you have to answer like any Viking in Berk and you are out after curfew!"

"I-I thought that carried a night in the cells," Hiccup grunted, struggling. "Pretty sure this isn't in the rules!"

"WE make the rules!" the guard sneered, confirming Hiccup's worst fears. "We protect Berk. And you are a danger to us all. You've caused trouble for years. You've destroyed half the village. And now you attack two guards. You finally have to pay for your crimes!"

"Look, I was only trying to get back to sleep with my dragon!" Hiccup protested, his voice wavering in anxiety. His facade of bravado was slipping as he felt utterly trapped. Horrible images were flashing back across his vision, the face inches from his own transmuting to Dagur's sneer.

"Hear you sleep with anyone," the first guard sneered cruelly. His hands stroked the boy's bruised neck. "Feeling lonely, slave?" he taunted Hiccup. The boy was trembling now, his eyes dark with fear, his swollen lip and bleeding nose evidence of his resistance. He blinked back to horrific reality.

"I-I'm good," he mumbled. "Don't p-put yourself to any trouble." He gasped as the man's hand slid under his tunic and the rough hand dug into his skinny flesh, kneading and fondling painfully.

"You owe us for your attack!" the second guard added as his friend ground his hips against the boy's abdomen. Shivers of fear were beginning to tremble through the boy.

"I'm...I'm sorry..." he gasped, still writhing jerkily against the men's touch. "Please, I meant no harm. I-I was frightened..." He closed his eyes in misery as he felt the man grind himself harder against his body. He could feel the guard's manhood, rigid against his body and knew that he was lost. Somehow, Dagur had turned him from a young Viking to a sex toy and the Berk Guards had decided that his only place was servicing their desires. He felt his innards cringe. He had been raped by Dagur and Savage: yet having his own villagers attack him was even worse.

The man's hand was stroking against his neck and face now and he tried to turn his face away, tears sliding from the corners of his eyes. The guard dragged him further behind the storehouse and slammed the boy to the frozen ground. His friend followed him, looking out for anyone who could interrupt them and waiting for his turn. No one was likely to interrupt them. But Hiccup was writhing in silence, his face locked in fear.

"I'll go first, boy," the first guard said, pressing himself over the frantically struggling boy. He thrashed as hard as he could but his limbs were pinned and the man was crushing him with his body. He felt his tunic dragged up, revealing his bruised and battered body. The man was hauling down his leggings and silent sobs began to shudder through him. He didn't cry out because there was no one to come. The village's protectors were the ones who were going to abuse him.

"Anyone there?" a gruff voice called. Instantly, a hand was slammed over Hiccup's mouth and the man lying on him went still. They were deep in the shadows and not visible from the main path. The man's colleague turned to the approaching stranger and Hiccup froze, closing his eyes. It was his father-the last person he wanted to find him in such a demeaning position. The second guard turned to his Chief with a smile and saluted.

"Nils and Gunther, sir," he said smartly. "Gunther is...er..on his break, if you catch my meaning!" The Chief gave a curt nod, hearing two sets of breathing. It wasn't an unusual situation.

"Keep your eyes peeled," he said gruffly. "I thought I saw someone running through the lower village. And I'm not sure Dagur will stay away for very long. He's planning something!" Hiccup stiffened at the mention of the name and the man lying over him, Gunther, pressed harder over his mouth. He tried to swallow but his throat was bone dry with fear. Thor only knew what kind of beating Hiccup was going to get after they raped him for his bad luck in running into these two.

"Will do, sir," Nils said efficiently. Stoick nodded to him and gave a slight smile.

"Remind Gunther that his break can't last too long!" he said and stomped off. Hiccup felt his spirits plummet: though he felt he would have died to have his dad see him in a such a compromised position, the arrival of anyone had been his last chance to avoid being assaulted. Then he felt his leggings dragged right down and he was manhandled into his face. Giving a final, desperate struggle, he felt himself pressed down into the frozen ground and his legs forced apart as he clamped his jaws shut against the inevitable pain.

"Okay, slave, maybe this is the way you can earn your keep!" Gunther hissed into his ear as he peeled down his breeches. Hiccup tensed, praying as he felt the man press his naked flesh against him.

"Get up!" Stoick growled, rounding the corner and standing over the man. He glanced up and then his face twisted in shock, instantly scrambling to his feet and rearranging his clothing. There was a long awkward silence. "Get back on patrol. NOW!" The men left rapidly and the Chief stared down at the half-naked, shivering shape that slowly curled up into a foetal ball, shaking so hard he could barely clutch his arms across his face. He heard sobbing breaths and took a single step towards the boy.

"S...Hiccup?" he asked gently. He dropped to one knee to inspect the boy and after a couple of very long, shuddering breaths, Hiccup lowered his trembling arms.

"It-it w-was m-my f-fault," he said in a shuddering voice, refusing to make eye contact. "I-I was out after curfew. They-they were just..." He stopped and covered his face with his shaking arms. "They d-don't want me here..." His voice was a tiny whisper, a weary protest against the cruelty he had experienced.

"Do you have somewhere warm to stay?" he asked softly. He shivered harder.

"T-toothless," he breathed. Stoick reached towards him, his heart filled with pity for the boy.

"Let me help you," he said as the boy curled up tighter. "Hiccup, you'll freeze here on the ground!" The boy blinked painfully and slowly reassembled his clothing. Very slowly, he pressed his hands to the ground and levered himself to his knees.

"I-I'll m-manage, s-sir..." he whimpered. Stoick saw blood on his face and extended his hand.

"You need a hand," he said and the boy flinched. "I know you have been hurt by me, Hiccup. I know you can't trust me. I can see that those guards were going to treat you very badly. But a Chief helps all his people and you are a Viking of Berk, Hiccup. I will see you safely back to your dragon." Hiccup blinked hard and cuffed tears from his face. His heart ached for the boy, and he held his hand out more obviously. With a shuddering breath, the boy pressed his cold hand onto his father's huge paw. Stoick helped lift the boy up to his feet and as soon as he was on his feet, he snatched his hand away.

"Th-thank you, sir," Hiccup said anxiously, his voice still shuddering. The Chief glanced at the small, bowed shape and saw the boy rest a hand on his midriff. He was trembling hard.

"Let's get you to Toothless," Stoick said.


	20. You aren't his son any more

"Let's get you to Toothless," Stoick said gently and turned to the path. The boy paused and the man could almost hear his son's pride and stubbornness war with his fear and pragmatism. He was small, beaten and really not very welcome by many villagers. He had already been attacked by two of the guards and the Chief could see the men were planning to sexually assault the boy. He had heard the whispers as well: slave...slut...

"Thank-thank you," Hiccup repeated, walking achingly and staring at the ground. He couldn't meet his father's worried expression because he feared he would start crying and beg to come home...and he couldn't face being rejected again. And he couldn't sleep in the room where Dagur...

"I see you're working back at the forge," Stoick was saying calmly. "Is Gobber looking after you?" Hiccup nodded automatically.

"You know Gobber," he replied and then pulled himself up, stiffening and staring at his Chief in fear at the over familiarity he was no longer entitled to. "I'm sorry, sir..." he added hurriedly, the edge of panic in his voice worrying Stoick. His son had been stubborn, smart-mouthed and brave: somehow, Dagur had treated the boy badly enough that he had broken his spirit. Stoick gave a gentle laugh.

"No need, s...Hiccup," he said, catching himself quickly. "And your friends?" He gave the vaguest ghost of a smile, still trembling hard.

"Same as they always were," he admitted. "Astrid has been keeping an eye on me. But that can't guarantee how everyone else will respond to me." He frowned and walked painfully down the slope. Stoick frowned.

"Are you hurt?" he asked in a concerned voice. Hiccup limped and shook his head.

"I just need to rest my leg," he murmured. "I'll be fine, sir," he added in an embarrassed voice. Stoick recalled the boy's stump needed careful tending and sometimes he pushed himself far too hard. He wondered if the boy had been granted any respite on Outcast Island.

Certainly not from Dagur, he thought to himself. And for the first time, he allowed himself to consider what the boy had endured on Outcast Island. It was probably the worst place Hiccup could be sent, for pretty much everyone there had a grudge against him. It was obvious that Hiccup had been abused physically, mentally and emotionally by Dagur, though the sexual abuse seemed to have had the most damaging effect.

He stole a glance at the small shape, limping wearily alongside the huge Chief. He knew the deliberate and obvious use of his 'slave' for sexual relief during the visit had meant to hurt Stoick but it had wounded Hiccup far more. It was a gift from the gods that his friends were so understanding because most of the rest of Berk condemned the boy as a slave and no one-no decent Viking woman-would accept him as a husband. Not that the boy seemed to have had any choice in any of the trials he endured. He had been framed, falsely convicted and exiled, beaten, whipped, branded, raped and sold as a slave.

They reached the arena entrance and the Chief paused. Technically, he bought the boy from Dagur and the village knew that. Though he wasn't walking around in chains, everyone knew the Chief had paid coin for the return of Hiccup. And that meant the boy had lowest status in the entire island: even some of the yaks probably ranked higher than Hiccup did right now. The assault this evening was to be expected. And Stoick knew it wouldn't be the last either. He paused as the boy turned to him, his bright green eyes downcast.

"Thank you-you, sir," he stammered, his shivering less but still obvious as he inspected the floor carefully "I-I have wasted too much of your time."

"You're welcome, lad," he forced himself to say, using all his strength of will not to hug the beaten shape and reassure him that all would be well. Hiccup managed a slight smile and then limped down the ramp into the main arena bowl. Stoick turned away but his quick ears heard the hitching in the boys breathing and knew he was sobbing. But he forced himself to walk away.

oOo

Hiccup heard his father walk away and sobs wracked his body. He guessed he had hoped his Dad would hug him, reassure him...say something other than the stilted conversation he had made on the way down to the arena. Much of the walk had been in silence and the boy sighed wearily.

He saw what you were doing with them. Maybe he thinks you like it. He bought you as a slave, Hiccup. You really aren't his son anymore. Just an object, to be bought and sold.

He doubled up in grief. He hadn't thought about his fate so harshly but the truth had trickled into his miserable consciousness. Slowly, he walked to Toothless's pen and the dragon lazily opened a luminous green eye. He lifted his wing and the boy crawled into his embrace, snuggling against the sleek body. He closed his eyes, tears streaking his face as Toothless wrapped his wing over the shuddering boy and he finally cried himself to sleep.

He woke late, the cold penetrating his little nest. His bruises from last night were stiff and he rubbed his face hard, then winced at the swollen welts on his face. Achingly, he rose and smiled at his dragon.

"Thanks, bud," he murmured. "Breakfast?" Toothless closed his eye in disgust and curled back up. It was way too early. The boy stretched again and then walked up the ramp and headed for the forge. Gobber was already there, pounding away at a sword. The blacksmith glanced up and gave a grin.

"Enjoyed your bath?" he asked. Hiccup blinked and the memory swirled back. In the frightening encounter with the guards, he had almost forgotten the little oasis of warmth and security that Astrid had given him. He gave a small smile and nodded.

"Yeah," he said and pulled on his leather apron. "I missed a good bath," he added with a sigh. Gobber hit the sword again. His annual bath was something he put off as long as possible.

"Not quite as comfy at the arena as you hoped, eh?" he noted. Hiccup shook his head.

"No, it's pretty much exactly how I remembered," he sighed. Then he shoved a bent sword into the fire to heat. He stared into the flames. "Gobber, does...he...consider me his slave now?" he added worriedly. He wasn't very sure what to call his father now. Every inch of his being screamed to just call him 'Dad' but he had rejected that and he found he couldn't use his father's given name: he had never used it. It felt wrong.

"Berk doesn't keep slaves," Gobber said, getting an inkling of the boy's concerns.

"But they all seem to be able to recognise one and treat me like one," the boy said bitterly.

"What do you mean, Hiccup?" Gobber asked thoughtfully as the boy lifted the sword out, lifted a hammer and began to pound the hot metal. The echoing clangs sounded for a few seconds,

"Not everyone thinks I should be here," he said tightly, slamming his hammer on the metal again. "They all call me slave." CLANG! "And some of them think it gives them the opportunity just to beat me up." CLANG! "Including the guard." CLANG! "And.." He dropped the hammer and breathed heavily, shoving the metal back into the fire.

"Laddie?" Hiccup shook his head.

"Gobber, this is the only place I feel safe," he murmured, staring at the anvil. A couple of guards walked by and the boy dipped his head, suddenly anxious.

"What happened?" Gobber demanded. Hiccup shook his head again.

"Ask him," he said too quickly. "I was out after curfew. The guards...they weren't anything but scary. When did curfew get so strict?"

"Always has been pretty tight, lad, but usually you just fly straight into your home on the dragon," Gobber told him. "And of course, being the Chief's son..."

"Thanks for that," Hiccup said dryly. "And now I'm not, I'm just a skinny, unwanted extra mouth on the island."

"What have they been saying?" Gobber had heard the whispers, the hissed insults.

"Pretty much that," Hiccup admitted. "Some of the guards seem aggrieved I seemed to get off so lightly for causing is much damage before the war ended."

"You were about as destructive as a Monstrous Nightmare," Gobber agreed and Hiccup groaned.

"I have tried every day since to make up to the village, to protect and help Berk," he said despondently. "Half the village still think I actually did try to kill my dad. More than that are convinced I am a slave and some believe that gives them the right...to have a little fun." He rested his hands on the anvil and his long fingers curled in frustration. "Do you think I should just go and say I'm sorry-again-and beg him to take me back?"

"What do you want to do, laddie?" The words were very soft. Hiccup stared at his hands, the grubby bandage still tied around the deep slice on the back of his left wrist.

"Part of me really wants to go and talk to him," he admitted wretchedly. "But a bigger part reminds me of those words. You are not my son!" Gobber tried not smile as Hiccup instinctively fell into his very good Stoick impression because the boy's expression told him this was a painful subject. "You know he's disowned me TWICE now? But this time...he actually believed I would hurt him. He just cast me aside. He wouldn't even listen when I protested my innocence. And he doesn't even understand why that hurt even more than the whip or what Dagur did to me..." He covered his face with his hands.

"Do you want me to speak to him, Hiccup?"

"No!" There was a pause. "Maybe. I don't know." He grabbed the sword out of the fire and began pounding away at it, his expression angry. Gobber watched him for a few minutes.

"I think you've turned that sword into a shield, laddie," he suggested after the boy shoved the metal back into the fire. Hiccup sagged.

"Go and ride your dragon, boy," he suggested. "It's where you're at your best." Hiccup nodded wordlessly and took his apron, then turned to walk down the hill again.

Gobber watched him. Vikings didn't have a word for post traumatic stress but he could see his friend was hurting badly, the scars from his cruel experiences still far too fresh and being constantly picked at by the careless whispers and taunts of the villagers. He glanced up the hill at the Chief's House, Hiccup's rightful home. Somehow, the boy had been dismissed from almost everyone's mind as the lad who saved the village and ended the war with dragons, who fought off Outcasts and rogue dragons: all they saw now was the boy convicted of trying to kill the Chief, Dagur's slave and sex toy who had been purchased by the Chief. He looked at the sword the boy had been repairing. He had hammered it completely flat and it would take Gobber half the morning to repair the weapon. Hiccup was an excellent blacksmith and for him to make such a mess meant he was very distracted.

He had just about repaired the weapon when Hiccup returned, wind-blown and flushed but there was more of a sparkle in his eyes. Toothless was with him and the Night Fury greeted Gobber with a croon then curled up at the back of the forge, close to the fire. The boy almost skipped to pick up his apron and cast his boss a smile.

"Good flight?" Gobber asked. The boy nodded and opened his mouth to reply when three large shapes filled the window.

"Hey! We want a word with you!" Hiccup started and his face froze. It was the Berk Guard, their leader scowling unpleasantly at the boy.

"Er yes?" he said, his voice shaking slightly. He backed up a pace and Toothless opened his eyes slightly, his pupils narrowing. The guard beckoned and Hiccup reluctantly walked forward. "Can-can I help you?" he asked softly.

"You attacked two guards last night," the guard growled. Hiccup looked shocked.

"Really?" he said incredulously. "What-did I ambush them? No, wait-I distracted them with my bulging muscles and heroic appearance!" His tone was dripping with sarcasm. The man grabbed the front of his tunic and hauled him closer. The watching Gobber saw the boy stiffen in alarm.

"That smart mouth of yours will get you into trouble!" the guard threatened.

"Like I've never heard that before!" Hiccup replied smartly.

"You bit Gunther!"

"He put his hands over my my mouth," Hiccup said evenly. "Not a fan. Don't like my personal space invaded."

"Not what I heard," the guard sneered, "we've all heard that's exactly what you like." Hiccup shuddered and Gobber made to intervene but the guard shook Hiccup roughly. "You fought them both. You ran when they stopped you out after curfew. I think you need a night in jail to teach you a lesson." Hiccup gave a wince.

"And Nils and Gunther are going to be my jailers?" he asked cynically. "Can I finish work first? Not fond of the jail either." The man jerked him closer. Hiccup froze, his face paling.

"You're coming now, boy!" he snapped. "Everyone has to respect the Berk Guard. You need to learn that, slave!"

"Did-did my name get changed without my knowledge?" Hiccup asked him, still clinging to his bravado. "Thought it was still Hiccup. Not that it's the greatest name, of course, but..." And the man's hand closed tightly on his throat to silence him. He choked to a halt and went rigid, his eyes wide with fear.

"You'll answer to what we call you-slave!" he snarled. "And you're coming NOW!" Toothless snarled. Hiccup gave a choke of fear and the guard reluctantly released him. Tenderly fingering his throat, Hiccup half-turned his head.

"Easy, bud," he said tonelessly. "It's okay. We all have to stick to the rules." Gobber's eyebrows raised. He wasn't sure the rules allowed this.

"You liked that, didn't you-slut?" the leading guard hissed. Hiccup swallowed.

"Not that keen on being throttled either," he said hoarsely, trying the force the tremor from his voice. He reluctantly took off his apron and handed it to Gobber. He turned to the blacksmith. "I'll make up the time," he said urgently, not wanting to lose his job but the blacksmith looked grim.

"Are you sure you want to do this, boy?" he asked concernedly. "I'm not sure you're going to be looked after in the jail." Hiccup gave a twisted smile.

"I'm certain I'll be very well looked after," he said tonelessly. "Toothless-stay with Gobber. I'll be fine." Then he went with the guards, his head down and stomach dancing with apprehension. He knew he had to try to fit in, to obey the rules, to show the hard-headed and suspicious people of Berk that he was worthy of giving a home on the island. It didn't matter that he had been born and lived his whole life on Berk, that he had given his left foot to save the place or ended the war with the dragons: he was now just Dagur's slave and whore and no one wanted him in the village. Except Toothless and maybe Gobber and Astrid. And now he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he had handed himself over to people who had no thought for anything but harming him.

He arrived at the jail and the three guards who had escorted him down shoved him roughly in. He shivered. It was cold and well away from the main part of the village. Two familiar shapes from the last night were waiting. Hiccup looked up and raised a wary smile, though his stomach was dancing in fear.

"So one night in jail, right?" he asked the guard in charge of his arrest. The man nodded.

"For being out after curfew and defying the guard," he affirmed. "Unless you cause any more trouble while in here?" Hiccup immediately looked suspicious.

"What sort of trouble am I likely to get up to in here?" he asked pointedly. Gunther slid his hand down his back and across his ass. He yelped and half-turned to view the men he had met last night. Both looked unpleasantly triumphant and the boy realised that his worries had been justified. He really prayed Gobber would act as concerned as he hoped he would: otherwise, Hiccup was in for one hell of a beating. He gave a brave smile.

"Hey, guys, things still slow?" he asked brightly. Nils grabbed his shoulder and pushed him backwards into the cell.

"So where were we?" he menaced the boy.


	21. Jail

Astrid arrived at the forge to see Hiccup and found Gobber worriedly sharpening an axe. Toothless was curled at the back of the forge, dozing.

"Where's Hiccup?" she asked. She had been disappointed when she had woken that Hiccup had gone. She had found the neatly folded towel and blanket with a tiny scrap of paper, scribbled with one word. Thanks.

She had caught a glimpse of his wounds, the brand and bruises and of course the hideous whip-gashes. Hiccup had looked very small and vulnerable when she had come in with his mended and cleaned clothes and she had tucked the blanket tight around him as he lay curled by the fire. She recalled the way he had mumbled and nuzzled against her before slipping into a deeper sleep and she had argued hard to allow him to stay. Her father had assured her that he had made the offer to the boy but that he had wanted to get back to his dragon. And her father had sounded relieved. No one seemed to want to give a Hiccup a chance.

"Gobber!" she repeated. The blacksmith looked up. "Hiccup!"

"He's in the jail!" he explained, looking concerned.

"WHAT?" she almost shouted at him. "How?"

"Last night, he was caught out after curfew and got into a disagreement with some guards," he explained. Astrid sighed. She knew just how smart-mouthed Hiccup could be and her own family's unwillingness to help the boy simply reinforced how few friends he currently had. "They came here and arrested him."

"But...when did you go to jail for being out after curfew?' Astrid asked. "The guards just shout at you and tell you to go home!"

"That doesn't really work for Hiccup though, does it?" Gobber told her. "No home. And he's a slave-no one to vouch for him."

"But you...the Chief..." she protested. Gobber shook his head.

"Lass, he needs a friend," he told her heavily. "He's a mess. There are flashes of the Hiccup I knew but he's clearly suffered a terrible amount of hurt. He's scared of anyone touching him, he won't let anyone even come close. And he thinks everyone will reject him."

"Many of them have," Astrid said sadly. "And I'm not sure jail will help him either. Can't you do anything?" Gobber nodded and put his axe down.

"I'll go and do something I should have a long time ago," he said gruffly. "Those guards didn't look too friendly either. Go and see him, lassie while I see if I can get him released!"

oOo

Hiccup slowly lifted his head. He had been right: it had been a hell of a beating. Then he grimaced painfully: actually, it had been two. Nils and Gunther had given his ass a beating when they raped him and then the rest of the guards had pounded him into a bloody puddle on the floor of his cell.

Almost too weary and overcome with pain, he slid an arm under his body and began to drag himself across the floor. There was no point in getting to his feet: they simply wouldn't hold him. He was shuddering with pain and shock: no matter what had happened, no matter what forebodings he had felt, he had never guessed he could be so appallingly hurt here on Berk. This was his home, the place he had clung to during all those horrible weeks on Outcast Island. He remembered the warmth of belonging to his tribe, his friends, his family. When he returned, it was as if he had landed on a foreign island: nothing was as he recalled. Tears welled from his eyes, over bruised and swollen flesh. He swallowed painfully, tasting blood. He wasn't sure what more he could do.

It was pretty evident now he couldn't stay on Berk. No one would tolerate him, the guards had abused him and he would freeze to death when winter really set in. Maybe when they let him out of jail, he could mount up Toothless and head south, maybe find an island where they could be safe and no one would care if he was branded as a slave or had been exploited by Dagur.

Sobs were really tearing through him now and they hurt. Everything hurt. He buried his face in his arm and just sobbed. He really couldn't take any more. He had hoped...trusted...that once he would home, he could start to feel safer, protected. That he would learn again not to jump when he heard a footstep or start to tremble at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. But Berk seemed as bad as Outcast Island.

He throat really hurt as well. Savage and Dagur really got off on choking him and the guards had certainly had some fun choking him to silence as they attacked him. He took another shuddering breath. He managed to make the far wall, squirmed into a corner and curled up. The guards had departed, leaving him locked up once they had finished. Not that he cared. He just missed Toothless.

He didn't see Astrid arrive because he had closed his eyes and was huddled up in his own little world of pain. She stared through the bars at the small, curled shape and the trail of blood-smears on the floor that led to him. Her breath caught.

"Hiccup!" she called but he gave no sign he heard her. She leaned forward. "Hiccup! Are you alright?" She stared at him. He was breathing shallowly but otherwise, he was giving no signs of life. She opened her mouth to call again.

"...no..." The word was almost a rasping breath, no more than that. She stared into the gloom and realised his face was livid with bruising, blood on his skin, an eye closing with a blow. His small hands were balled and clutched against his middle.

"What happened?" she hissed. He gulped and his emerald eyes fluttered open.

"Apparently...curfew...is a it more...serious...that we thought..." he rasped slowly. "Maybe ...calling them ...yak-brained Gronckles...didn't help..." She blinked and realised he was trying to joke.

"Hiccup...they had no right to do this!" she raged. His eyes closed again.

"No...but did it...anyway..." he breathed. She dropped to her knees and peered through the bars.

"We have to get you out," she said softly. He sighed.

"Then what?" he rasped. His eyes opened and she read real fear in them. "Astrid...no one wants me here...if they think...this is okay...how can I stay? I might as well be back with Dagur. At least then...I knew everyone wanted to hurt me."

"I don't," she said in a small voice. "You should have stayed with me last night!"

"Got that now..." he said slowly. "Your Dad...didn't want me there...he asked nicely...but his face said I was as welcome as Alvin the Treacherous."

"Can't you stay in the forge?" she asked.

"Toothless..." he murmured. "Not enough room. Can't think...Gobber'd be too happy either."

"Snotlout? He's your cousin!"

"Where do I start? He's the heir so I can't be with him. Half the village think I may try to kill him. And his Dad...he never liked me..." His tone had altered and Astrid's eyes narrowed. There was a story there as well which Hiccup wasn't sharing.

"The twins?"

"Are you kidding?"

"Fishlegs?"

"He just has room for Iggy and Meatlug. No, there is nowhere I can go." He sounded utterly defeated. "Could...could you feed Toothless please? I may be here some time." The tone was pleading. She nodded.

"Get some rest," she told him encouragingly. "I'll find a way to get you out." His eyes fluttered. He really was deadly tired.

"Thanks," he murmured and drifted into sleep.

oOo

"OPEN THAT DOOR NOW!"

The bellow echoed through the jail and the torches closed on the door. The guards jumped to attention and fumbled with the keys. With a creak, the cell door cracked open. Stoick and Gobber glared at the guard who had arrested Hiccup, the blacksmith rotating his hook very menacingly. He loved the boy like a son and hadn't liked the way they had spoken to Hiccup. The Chief was so mad he was almost breathing flames himself.

"Who said you could lock up my slave?" he shouted, hating the words but knowing it was the ploy he and his friend had agreed on as most expedient. Expedience was unusual in a Viking but Stoick was determined to what was right for his Tribe-all of it. And that included Hiccup. "And, by Odin, what have you done to him?" The guard went stone-faced and shuffled his feet.

"He injured two guards in escaping last night and showed no respect for the guards who arrested him today. He had to be taught a lesson!"

Stoick walked into the cell and held up his torch, then peered at the unconscious shape, slumped in the corner. He gasped at the obvious injuries, then handed the torch to the guard and scooped the huddled shape in his arms. Hiccup was limp, very thin and battered, his face swollen with welts and clothing torn from the beating he had clearly endured. Stoick adjusted the boy in his arms, feeling the boy stir slightly. The emerald eyes fluttered open briefly.

"Dad..." he murmured and a small fist latched into his father's chest. Stoick turned and stalked out of the jail. Gobber stared at him.

"Where are you going?" he asked. Stoick felt the battered shape stir slightly in his arms.

"What I should have done days ago," he said grimly. "I'm taking him home."


	22. Be my son again

Astrid arrived at the Chief's house as Hiccup was laid on the table, both Stoick and Gobber leaning anxiously over the unconscious boy. She gasped as she saw his wounds in a better light. The boy's face was black and blue, swollen from welts. His slender neck was circled by bruises as well and he was moaning slightly. Stoick turned to his friend.

"Fetch Gothi," he told the blacksmith. "I'll take him upstairs..."

"No!" Astrid cried as she entered. She hadn't meant to speak but she instinctively knew that would be a mistake. "Sir-he can't go into his bedroom. Not now." Stoick turned to her. "Dagur! He...well...was with Hiccup there..." The Chief frowned and then nodded

"Yes, I heard Dagur rape him," he said gruffly. Astrid's eyes suddenly burned with tears at the bleak description of her friend's ordeal-and the fact that Stoick had done nothing about it. The Chief considered for a moment, then nodded. "I see. Gobber-help me bring the bed down here." Astrid folded her arms and her expression spoke volumes.

"My bed won't fit," Stoick told her gruffly. "It will have to be his bed." So he left her to keep Hiccup company as the two men man-handled the bed down the stairs and set it down by the fire. Stoick rounded up a sheet, blankets and furs and made up the bed. Then the Chief tenderly turned back to his son. He looked worriedly at Astrid.

"Er, lass, you may want to step out while we strip him," Gobber suggested, looking meaningfully at the boy.

"It's not like I haven't seen naked people before..." she argued.

"Have you seen naked Hiccup before?" Gobber asked. She gaped. "Look, lassie-Hiccup is a really shy lad. He knows he's not the most impressive looking Viking and has endured some pretty cruel taunts about his physique throughout his entire life. And...he really... likes you, Astrid. Don't shame and embarrass him when he can't ask you to respect his dignity." She blushed. She hadn't thought about his shyness and the fact everyone had bullied him for ever. She glanced at Hiccup-sweet, shy, kind, nervous around her-and she didn't want him to feel any worse.

"I'll get Gothi," she said suddenly and ran for the door. Stoick waited for the door to slam, the turned back to the still shape. Carefully, the two men stripped the boy of his tunic, vest and leggings. Stoick tenderly unstrapped the prosthesis and checked the stump finding-as he expected-raw areas and inflamed scars from lack of care. Then the Chief lifted the naked body of his son and gently laid him in the bed. He sighed.

The boy was appallingly thin, having lost a terrible amount of weight from his already skinny frame since his exile. Most of Hiccup was covered in savage bruises at all stages of healing, varying purple to fading green, many overlapping. His toast rack chest was battered with the marks of fists and boots. The livid, puckered angry scarlet burn was ugly on his left shoulder. The livid marks of whips were ugly over his shoulders and both men had gasped at the savage map of lashes covering his skinny back. Almost unnoticed and carefully concealed, the word 'slave' was viciously carved into the inside of his left arm. And there was blood on his thighs. They gently laid the boy on the fur-laden bed and twitched furs over his still body. Stoick blinked and abruptly turned away.

"I should have believed him, Gobber," he said in a broken voice. "He was sobbing, begging for me to believe him, believe his innocence. I turned him down. I disowned him, exiled him from the Tribe. Odin, I can still see his face, begging for his dragon." He rubbed his nose. "He looked as heartbroken as when I disowned him for keeping Toothless."

"Stoick, the boy loves you desperately," Gobber told him. "He would do anything to make you proud of him. All those ridiculous contraptions he used to fight dragons were to win your approval."

"Gobber, I do love him," Stoick said heavily, "but he's so..."

"Stubborn? Inventive? Brave? Always thinks he knows best?" Gobber offered.

"Un-Vikinglike," Stoick sighed. "Oh, he had changed our island, ended the war, protected the village from Berserkers and Outcasts..."

"Which was why exiling him was such a bad move," Gobber said. It was the only chance he had to talk his friend round. "He's loyal to you, his friends and of course the dragon. I am certain they tortured him badly to work against you. His friends and I never believed he was guilty." He paused. "You know, he never strikes first? He deliberately won't kill. Murder is not in his capability. And you as his father should know that."

"I wish he had come home when he returned," the Chief said.

"You know why he couldn't," Gobber said, standing by him after gently pushing the tousled auburn hair from his bruised face. "He's more stubborn than you. But you couldn't just say you were sorry when he needed to hear it most. No, you had to chastise him for being defiant and causing so much trouble in the past. I saw his eyes as you put him down in front of the village yet again-even when you should be apologising and begging his forgiveness. You broke his heart."

"I almost took him home last night," Stoick said hollowly. "He wanted to get back to the dragon. He was so...changed. He really was like a slave. He wouldn't look at me, wouldn't meet my eye-and he was trembling. Really trembling in fear. I knew those guards were trying to..." He sighed. "I should have brought him here because I bought him as my slave. That way, he could have been protected. As a slave, he has no rights or status at all."

"Apologise again," Gobber advised him. "The boy is going to be in pain, vulnerable and frightened. Let him lead you and talk to him. Listen to him."

"I am his Chief," Stoick said gruffly. "I can't be expending all my time on an injured boy..."

"How about being a father tending his injured son?" Gobber asked shortly in an exasperated voice as Astrid arrived with the tiny humped shape the elder. Gothi silently assessed Hiccup and her wizened face crinkled into a scowl of anger at the tale she read. Her tiny, claw-like hands tenderly cleaned his ravaged body and then she applied salves and ointments to the worst of his wounds. A special sticky paste was applied to his burn and another to his whip gashes and a special lotion was massaged into his reddened and raw stump. A bowl of medicine was gently poured into his mouth and he automatically swallowed it. Finally, the tiny elder left instructions with Gobber and left.

"Well, she's not happy!" the blacksmith commented as she pointedly whacked him with her staff as she went.

"How is he?" Astrid asked quietly. She had waited outside until Gothi emerged, respecting her friend. Her blue eyes focussed on the pale shape and she winced at the bruises. Stoick pulled the furs up over the toast rack chest and fussed with the pillow. He shook his head.

"I should have made him come home," he said.

"...wouldn't...come..." Hiccup breathed. His brow furrowed and he gave a groan. Stoick grasped his hand urgently.

"Hiccup. Son," Stoick said, inspecting the boy's swollen face. Hiccup's eyelids fluttered and his brilliant green eyes warily swung up to look into his father's face.

"No one's son," he sighed wearily.

"Hiccup, I'm sorry," Stoick said gently. "You were right. I can never know what it's like to be thrown out of my tribe and disowned by my father. But I want to help. I made a mistake-the worst of my life. I have to make that up to you. Please, let me atone for my wrongs!" The boy's eyes slid up and he frowned as he inspected the room. And his breathing accelerated.

"You brought me home?" he gasped hoarsely. His tone was accusing.

"It's the only safe place," Stoick told him. "You needed warmth and..." Hiccup's eyes widened and there was fear and distress in his gaze.

"You know what happened here?" Hiccup spat. His eyes swung down and he stiffened in anger. "In this bed?" Stoick nodded. "I was begging you for help. Begging! You did nothing. You just stood downstairs and...and listened!" His expression was utterly betrayed. Stoick nodded and looked ashamed but the boy sat up abruptly, the fur sliding down his naked torso. He gave a sudden gasp of pain and Astrid ran to his side,

"Hiccup!" she said, resting her hand in his bandaged wrist. He flinched fearfully. "There's nowhere else we could put you. They hurt you badly."

"So did he!" Hiccup complained, dropping his head. His shoulders were very hunched with pain and starting to jerk with quiet sobs. So she perched on the edge of the bed and threw her arms around his skinny shoulders. He stiffened in sudden fear and then he buried his head in her shoulder and wept. Stoick just stared at the boy and the girl, who gently stroked the back of his head and made gentle cooing noises. He held onto her until his sobs eventually died down. He pushed away with a watery smile.

"How are you?" she asked him in a low voice. He swallowed and tried to wipe his face.

"I've been better," he suggested dryly. "Is Toothless..?"

"Full of fish and sleeping curled up with Stormfly," she reassured him. He gave a nod and then winced, balling his fists and digging them into the bed, using then to hitch his body over slightly and ease his position. He gave a low moan of pain. "Is something wrong?" He looked and realised she had seen. But she knew anyway so he gave a weary sigh.

"Sore. Really really sore," he explained quietly. "Those guards seemed to think that calling me a slut is the same as an invitation to fuck me." She stiffened and almost pulled away, all the instincts of a good Viking maiden only overcome by the sudden wave of sorrow that filled Hiccup's emerald eyes at the sudden lifting of her touch. His face twitched with a sudden lopsided smile of immeasurable sadness.

"I'm sorry," he said sadly. "I never asked for any of this. I never asked to be sent to Outcast Island. I never asked to be handed over to Dagur, who had been trying to get me for years. I never asked to be whipped and beaten for refusing to tell anything about Berk's defences or how to train dragons. I certainly never asked to be branded as a slave. I begged not to be raped by Dagur, that first time and every time since. And I though I dreamed about it every time I closed my eyes, I never wanted to come back here because I knew I could never be forgiven. That nothing bad would be forgotten. Though everything I did to protect Berk and help my Dad was forgotten because of this!" And he gestured to the burn. "That's what defines me now."

"Hiccup..."

"Traitor. Slave. Slut. Not a pretty selection of names but all I hear. In fact I think my name's been legally changed from Hiccup to slave. People don't look at me or if they do, they look with disgust. Your parents didn't want me in the house. Spitelout told me he would beat me senseless if I darkened his door. Boy, that's a welcome from your uncle you wouldn't forget!" His tone was bitter and his smile grim.

"I..."

"The guards didn't need to be so cruel," he said softly. "They could just shout at me or hit me and send me on my way. There was no need to feel me up or drag me behind a storehouse and try to rape me for being out after curfew!" He blinked hard and his long lashes were beaded with tears. His voice was hoarse again. "And-and they thought it was okay because I was a Berserker slave and slut!" He lifted a shaking hand to cover his battered face. "My Dad spared me last night...but they came back and got me today. So why should I stay when I have no confidence in the guards? When I know-I know-they will do it again. And no one will stop them."

"For your friends?" she suggested. His creased brow softened and he sighed.

"Just remember me as I was," he begged her. "Not...this..." And he gestured to his beaten shape.

"Hiccup, I can't," she said gently. "You are my friend, my closest friend..."

"And you recoiled from me when you recalled what they did to me," he groaned. "I was raped, Astrid. Over and over. And that changes everything. Because there can be an 'us'. Not any more. I am unsaleable. You will marry a man with honour and status and be happy and I will hide what I am for the rest of my lonely life, leaving everything behind because no one here could believe I am innocent and a free Viking." Tears were dripping from his face now. "No one could ever forgive that. But they are the ones who did it to me!"

And he broke completely, his incoherent sobs loud in the hut. Astrid tried to comfort him but he huddled away, wrapping his skinny arms around his battered and beaten shape. His head was down, his hair obscuring the bruised face. Gobber nudged Stoick, hard.

"We need a Thing," he announced. "A town meeting. I can't have you treated like this, son."

"I'm..."

"YOU ARE MY SON!" Stoick bellowed, shocking his son to a terrified silence. Every eye turned on the Chief and he forced his face into a calmer expression. "You are my son, Hiccup. My only son. And I have repealed your sentence." Hiccup swallowed painfully.

"Yeah, that's gonna work," he said sarcastically and switched to his excellent Stoick impression, his voice becoming growling and commanding with a thick Berkian accent. "I know I threw this boy out of the tribe twice, the last time for trying to kill me. I know I gave away every possession, struck him from my heart and replaced him as heir but really that's okay because I've changed my mind. Oh, don't mind he's a slave and a sex toy, that's okay and we'll all forget about that, shall we. Good. All sorted!"

The Chief just stared at him. The boy was breathing hard and his eyes were glittering with anger and hurt-but also fear.

"Hiccup..." he said more gently.

"You can never know!" Hiccup told him shortly and his eyes shone with misery. "Never know how much it hurts to be rejected like you did. You have always been the perfect Chief-big and powerful and strong. You never had anyone call you a fishbone or a toothpick or...or runt. You never had your Dad sighing as you struggle to pick up a hammer too heavy for your strength. You never had your village laugh at you when you are doing your absolute best. And you never had your father tell you that you were not his son, that you were a disappointment!"

"Son..."

"Please, D...sir...at least be honest with me," Hiccup pleaded miserably. "You have said you are proud of me precisely once-when I jumped onto Toothless to fight the Red Death. That was enormously stupid and carried almost certain death but that was the only time I was sure you had any feeling for me other than contempt." Stoick looked shocked.

"Hiccup...I always loved you!" he protested.

"Clearly not!" the boy shot back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and scootching over to put his foot on the floor. He dragged the fur around his beaten shape and then shoved himself to his foot, one hand holding the fur around his middle and the other helping steady himself as he hopped slowly to the stairs and settled on the bottom step. He tugged the fur tighter around himself and stared at the others. "Because no one who loved his son would accept that he was guilty."

"The evidence..."

"And here we go again," Hiccup said sarcastically. "Look, Sir, if you loved me-if you even knew me, you'd know I can't kill. You'd know I would have given both my legs to have you show me a word of love, of pride, of any affection. But you didn't. So I kept trying with every ounce of my strength to try to kill dragons and make you proud. But it was never going to be enough because succeeding in Dragon Training was the only thing you cared about. You would never accept me for me."

"But the dragon..."

"By Odin! Toothless is a Night Fury. If he had wanted to kill you, you would be dead. He NEVER misses!" Hiccup was almost shouting in his frustration. Stoick scowled at the tone: he didn't like being shouted at but Gobber was poking him with his hook and he bit his tongue. It was pretty obvious Hiccup had a lot of things to get off his chest. "He never misses. And had you moved, he would have finished you before you even stopped rolling."

"Then why didn't Fishlegs think of that?" Astrid asked softly. The boy sighed.

"He's a Dragon Expert," he admitted, "but not the most gifted with common sense." He sighed again and Astrid rolled her eyes.

"And the poison?" Stoick asked his son. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"Since I know nothing about any if this, I really can't say!" he replied testily. He shifted his position slightly: it was really sore but he had been determined not to lie on the bed. Every second made him feel Dagur on top of him, his hands digging into his flesh, his breath on his face, his voice taunting him. And the pain, spearing into him. He was breathing hard.

"Look, s...Hiccup...you have to understand that I have a duty..." Stoick began.

"Yeah, of course," Hiccup winced. "You have spent most of my life telling me what a Chief is supposed to do. But you've also spent all of my life, shouting at me for being useless and too weak and too clumsy. For being in the wrong place and causing chaos. For trying to hunt trolls and learn weapons. For embarrassing you. I have been shouted down and humiliated and even struck in front of the village. And I have been beaten up and taunted and denigrated my entire life. And apart from a few hugs when I was little, I really can't recall any time when I felt you loved me. You don't know me. And I doubt you have loved me for a long time."

The room fell silent at the despondent tone and every eye fell heavily on the boy.

"You thought I didn't love you?" Stoick said, his voice a pained croak.

"No," Hiccup said levelly. "If you loved me, you would never have sent me to Outcast Island. You would have exiled me where I stood a chance of life. Outcast Island was a stone cold death sentence." The Chief's face was unreadable.

"I have always loved you," Stoick said quietly. "You are my son"

"Gobber has been more of a father to me than you over the past five years or so," Hiccup shot at him, his eyes still flashing.

"I..."

"Yes, I know. A Chief has to put his people first. But that's not true. What you mean is that a Chief has to put all his people except his son first."

"I was spending all my time clearing up your messes!" Stoick retorted.

"And when you came home, Dad?" Hiccup asked him softly. "What did you do then? Did you talk to me, discuss what had happened, reassure me that my inability to slay dragons wasn't the worst thing in the world? Did you suggest how I could improve, do things better? Did you offer to teach me to be a better Viking? Or did you shout at me some more for being a disgrace, a failure, a total stain on the family name? Did you scream at me that if I couldn't fight dragons, I may as well get eaten by one?"

Stoick stared at him. He couldn't recall all his talks with Hiccup, only that the boy was frustrating and apologised profusely-then messed up again. But an insistent nagging feeling reminded him of the shy, almost hopeful look the boy always gave when his father returned home-to be instantaneously replaced by hurt and misery as Stoick had begun his latest tirade against the boy.

"You gave all my stuff away. You wouldn't even let my friends talk to you when they found evidence I was wrongly accused. You had cut me from your life. All of it!"

"I was betrayed!"

"So was I!" Hiccup shouted. "Twice! First by Lars who framed me and then worse, by my father who exiled me. And there is nothing worse than knowing you are innocent and being sent away anyway. When I came back, there was still a tiny corner of me hoping that you would look at me and see someone desperate for your help, your protection...but all I saw was a cold glare as you turned away." He looked away, unconsciously rubbing his brand.

"I'm sorry," Stoick said. Hiccup sighed.

"So am I," he admitted. "Because though I was innocent when you sent me to Outcast Island, I'm not any more. I'm a slave and..." He paused. "Ruined," he added.

"Berk doesn't recognise slavery," Stoick said.

"But some of the villagers do," his son baldly told him. "And that means I can never return."

"Unless you are freed and your mark removed," Stoick said softly. Hiccup blinked.

"It can only be burnt off," he said very slowly. It still hurt now: what would it do if he had sear the mark away? He paled.

"You know Lars is going to betray us to Dagur, right?" he said abruptly, forcing his mind from the image of more hot iron pressing into his shoulder. He was feeling sick at the very thought. "He wanted to know numbers of catapults, patrols, guards, patrol routes, ships...and he kept asking me. They have a game called Truth or Forfeit. If you don't tell the truth, you pay a forfeit." He swallowed. "The only things I said which were the truth were that it hurt to press the brand and I didn't want to be raped. The rest were all forfeits because I wouldn't help him. No matter how much it hurt, what they did to me..." He stopped and stared at the floor. He was trembling again. "I didn't want any of you to die. I knew I didn't matter any more."

"Hiccup..." It was Astrid, her voice gentle and heartbreakingly sad.

"You know..." he said wretchedly, "he promised that he would spare Berk after he...he..." He swallowed. "But I knew he was lying. He wants to attack here. Half his armada is north, digging out the Skrill. The rest will head here and things will get bad. I'm sorry, Dad. I couldn't stop him..." He closed his eyes and when he opened them, Stoick was kneeling in front of him.

"Son, I never realised," he murmured. Hiccup swallowed the deserved retort and let his body sag. He was tired, so very tired of never being loved or feeling anyone cared for him.

"Yeah," he said despondently. Stoick raised his hand the boy stiffened, his eyes widening with fear. His breathing accelerated and he looked terrified as his father gently laid his hand on the bruised and battered cheek.

"I should have stopped him," he admitted ashamedly. "I knew it was wrong. I could see you were terrified and fighting and desperate. I heard him threaten you and I just stood there. I could see you there with Toothless and I just couldn't move, couldn't rationalise what had happened. And I heard you sobbing and had to leave. But you came, warning me just in time to save my life. You came when I needed you, no matter how much you knew it would cost you. And I...was ashamed of my mistrust and...proud of my son."

Hiccup gave a low sob, his face buried in his hands.

"Come back, son," he repeated gently. "Please forgive me for doubting you. Let me care for you and show you how much I love my boy." He paused. "Be my son again."


	23. I can't stay here

"Come back, son," Stoick said gently. "Please forgive me for doubting you. Let me care for you and show you how much I love my boy." He stroked the boy's head. "Be my son again." Hiccup's shoulders were jerking now in silent grief. And then he threw himself against his father's chest and broke down, his hand tightening on his father's vest and face buried. Stoick closed his huge arms around his son, feeling the bones sharply press into him. He gently kissed the top of the boy's head.

"D-dad..." he sobbed. "Please don't hate me. Don't cast me aside." And Stoick tightened his embrace, felling the boy press hard against him. Guilt assaulted him hard: that was exactly what he had done. He had given away all the boy's possessions and replaced him as Heir. There was very little Stoick could offer the boy except his words, a home and protection.

Finally, when the sobs had quieted, the Chief held him at arms length and inspected the scrawny shape. "Come back to the bed," he invited his son but the boy pursed his lips and shook his head. He was as irritatingly stubborn as his father.

"I-I'm good," he said determinedly and pulled the fur tighter around his body. He was hitched up on one hip and half-leaning against the next step up but he made no other move. Stoick rose and frowned.

"You will need new clothes," he decided. "Those are really beyond repair." Hiccup said nothing, his head down. "And food..."

"That would be my cue!" Gobber said warmly and bustled out of the door. He was far and away the best cook. Stoick frowned. He had purchased fabric for a new tunic for his son months ago but somehow had never got round to making the garment. Astrid spoke up.

"Can I help?" she asked. And while sewing clothes was a parent's job, the Chief nodded, grateful for the offer. Hiccup watched them measure up the fabric against his old tunic and half lay against the next stair.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Why are there yaks on Outcast Island?" Stoick looked up and frowned. This was so...Hiccup. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to his thought processes.

"They raid and take them for food. Then they slaughter them," he answered.

"Oh." That actually explained the dung-a lot of very anxious animals would produce a huge amount of dung. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Should we increase patrols because of Lars' treason?"

"Already done."

"Oh." There was a pause. "Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I don't care about bring the Heir. All it ever involved was being taunted, sneered at and having to deal with horrible other Chiefs' sons."

"We'll see."

"That means 'you've said something, Hiccup, but I'm going to totally ignore it!'" the boy translated ironically.

"Will you move back to your room?" Stoick asked. Hiccup stiffened.

"No," he murmured. "Can't." Stoick looked up.

"Why? You're safe now," he said gruffly. The boy stared up towards the loft, his shoulders hunching. He could see the scene as if it was now, Dagur's hated hands pawing his beaten shape, his foul breath whispering poison in his ear, his laugh echoing through the room.

I was going to be nice but now...this will hurt.

Gods, it had hurt.

"I don't feel safe," he murmured.

"But Toothless will be there with you," Stoick told him. "He'll protect you."

Not from the memories. Oh, those memories…

"He can't," the boy managed tonelessly. "It's too late. Everyone knows. They want to know why I'm not in chains, not slaving as a thrall in your house. Why I am allowed to eat in the Hall or fly my dragon. And I can hear him...see him...feel him whenever I look up there." He closed his eyes. "I can't..." he whispered. Stoick dropped it and wondered how he could bring up the next topic.

"About your status," he murmured. Hiccup sighed.

"I know I'm not the Heir. I know that technically I'm not a Hooligan and not even a free man," he replied, his tone more defeated than ever. "I-I don't even feel like this is home any more." There was a gasp from Astrid and he flicked his sad gaze to look at her. She stood up.

"This IS your home, Hiccup," she said strongly. "You are one of us, no matter what those idiots say. You fought for Berk and almost gave your life. You would never betray us."

"But no one wants me!" he burst out, his voice suddenly raw with despair. "I was never much of a Viking anyway but I was tolerated because my Dad was the Chief. Because, despite being the biggest screw-up in the history of Berk, I managed to train a dragon and come back to help you when you needed me most. Now, I am a slave, a Berserker possession and a traitor, even though I never did anything to betray the people of Berk. They have the Heir they wanted but they want more of me. Chains, probably. And I don't think I can stay here if all it is ever going to be is insults and blows and being hurt and abused because they feel like it." His eyes were shining with tears and there was nothing more he could say as sobs thickened his throat and choked his voice to unintelligibility.

"I want you," Stoick said. And Astrid ran forward, her hands finding his cheeks and pressing a kiss to his mouth. He stiffened, shocked. His breath was still hitching painfully as he struggled to process what she had done.

"And me," she whispered. He swallowed. "We will make it better," she promised. Then she pulled away from him. "There are people who love you. Your Dad, Gobber, me, Toothless-even the other riders...though that would probably be disturbing and creepy in the case of the twins..." Hiccup gave a shudder. "Please...don't give up yet!" He closed his eyes.

"It's so hard," he admitted. "I know life as a Viking is hard and tough and cold but sometimes...you want some warm, homely corner you can call home." His father swept him into a fierce embrace and finally, Hiccup let himself hug his father as the door swung open. Gobber backed in, holding a large pot of what smelled like his delicious chicken soup. He looked up at the others.

"Did I miss anything?" he asked as he began to ladle the food out.

oOo

Hiccup stiffened as he felt a hand slide across his naked shoulder. His father and Gobber had gone out, presumably to attend to some Chiefing. He sighed, knowing that even with his protestations, his father would still have duties to attend to. But Astrid had remained with him and he was suddenly aware that it was her hand that slid sensuously over his skin, that trailed through his hair. She leaned towards him and ghosted a kiss on his cheek as he painfully lifted his aching body and half-turned to face her.

"Er...hi, Astrid?" he hazarded. She was smiling at him.

"You know how cute you look when you're sleeping?" she asked him.

"Actually, no, I was asleep," he replied worriedly. She was staring at him a little too intently. And though she was sending his pulse racing, he was still alarmed by the intensity of her inspection.

"I don't hate you," she whispered. "I don't despise you. And I'm not disgusted." She pressed her lips onto his and he felt a sudden warmth, the brush of her hair on his bruised skin. He kissed her back, not quite chaste but not yet consumed by need. She leaned into the kiss, her hand digging harder into his auburn mop and moulding her body against his.

"Astrid?" he squeaked as they surfaced for air. She lunged at him again, her lips locking into his, her hand sliding down his side, slipping under the fur still wrapped around him and touching his cool flesh. She rubbed gently and he felt himself stir at her tender touch, her delicious curves pressed into his scrawny shape. He grasped her waist, kissing her harder. She gave a low moan and flipped up his fur, her hand sliding all the way down, stroking his firming flesh. He gasped, the sensations suddenly ripping through him. His mind was swirling with a toxic mix of astonishment , desire, confusion and fear. The last time he had been involved in any sort of encounter...had been as he was held down by two grown men and raped.

And she smelled of honeysuckle.

He crushed his confusion and kissed her harder, feeling her sweet response as she massaged him harder. She slid under him, her hands dropping momentarily to slide down her leggings. He felt her move under him and he leaned over her. She had been so teasing, so independent that this sudden change unnerved him and he paused for a moment before he lost all control.

"Astrid, are you sure?" he whispered in a strangled groan.

"Shut up and kiss me," she hissed back and slid directly under him, a leg rising to wrap around his hip and pulling him onto her. The blood was pounding in his loins and he was intoxicated by her scent, her warmth, her beauty. His need. She arched up to meet him and he gasped as she grasped him. He buried himself in her, his lips locking onto hers and their bodies moving hesitantly first but rapidly gaining rhythm and speed as they approached completion. He buried his face in her neck as he heard her give a loud gasp and spasm around him as he gave a shuddering groan and felt his vision smear with white as the ecstasy overwhelmed him...

oOo

He awoke with a shudder, curled in his furs on the step. Disorientated for a moment, he looked up and saw Astrid still sewing in her chair. His loins were aching and he felt a surge of shame as he realised that he had just had an incredibly inappropriate dream about Astrid while she patiently wrestled with the task of sewing him a new tunic. His cheeks flared a vivid crimson of humiliation as she looked up and smiled at him. He could just about manage to fashion a really embarrassed smile.

Thor, please let her NEVER know.

He shifted his position slowly, his face scorching with embarrassment. She frowned.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You look really flushed..."

"Erm...I-I'm fine..." he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck as he always did when he was feeling really awkward.

Gods, how could you let this happen? I've had a crush on Astrid since...always...and now I do...this? I sometimes wish the Red Death had eaten me!

She walked closer and leaned forward, her eyes searching his face for permission. She knew how jumpy he was, how wary he was of being touched and he nodded slightly. So she laid a hand gently on his forehead and frowned. "You're warm," she concluded softly, staring at his flushed face. He sighed. He wasn't surprised: he had endured too much abuse, too many cold nights and hard days and too little food to expect anything else.

"I'll survive," he told her softly.

"I wish you'd lie down more comfortably," she said. He shuddered.

"You know why I can't," he grimaced. "I know you mean well, but there are some things that I will have to deal with in my own time...and that's one of them."

"Hiccup..."

"Astrid, I was utterly powerless," he admitted softly. "He wanted to torment me and shame me and just plain hurt me. He succeeded and now everyone knows. I am ruined. No one is going to accept me-ever. So-tell me your father is happy to see me. Tell me he'll welcome me into your home and shake my hand. Tell me he won't look at me like a piece of yak dung…and I'll call you a liar." He shifted his position again. "They won't forgive or forget I consorted with Dagur here-even though I had no choice. They won't forgive or forget that I was convicted of treason-and most of them still won't believe it was wrongful anyway. And…I can't forget or forgive my Dad either," he said ashamedly. She stared at him.

"But you just said…" she said in confusion. He sagged.

"I wanted my Dad to apologise," he said softly. "I dreamed about it on Outcast Island. I wept for him sometimes, as I lay whipped and beaten in my cell. But when I came back here, he still didn't act like he had done anything to apologise for. And though he may have been tricked by Lars and Dagur, he should have known his own son wouldn't ever harm him. That I would throw myself in front of him to take an arrow if it saved him. That I am not the kind of person who would murder anyone. And that I really didn't actually want to be Chief anyway."

"So what are you going to do?" she asked. He shrugged.

"I don't know," he murmured. "But I can't stay here." He threw his arm out and gestured to the house. "I just see and hear Dagur while I'm here. You know, as I stood up there…" and he pointed to the loft, "…I actually tried to leap off and kill myself to prevent him raping me." Her eyes widened with shock and horror. Considering suicide was an utterly shameful admission for a Viking. "So yeah, not enough good memories here to keep me. And he gave away all my things anyway."

"Um…Gobber got all your papers and sketches, I got your journal, satchel and knife and Fishlegs has a spare tunic and your cloak. Your father only kept your helmet," Astrid admitted. He looked at her and a faint smile tilted his bruised face.

"Th-thanks," he said then stared at the floor. "Astrid?" She smiled and went back to her sewing. "Can you get me the cloak and the other spare tunic? I'll need them when Toothless and I go."


	24. Why am I still being punished?

He refused to speak any further, curling up and dozing on the steps as she finished the deep red tunic and rechecked the hem. Stoick had half-finished the leggings and Astrid completed them as well, her skills at sewing nowhere near as developed as her axe-wielding talents but more than sufficient to the task. She stared at the little curled shape, twitched the fur higher over his freckled shoulder and laid the clothes by him, then left. His words had really concerned her-because she could no longer imagine a Berk without Hiccup.

She went to speak to Gobber, because Hiccup had been right: the man loved and knew him far better than his father ever had. The blacksmith inspected her and listened to what she had to say and then he sighed.

"Yer right, lass," he admitted. "It's not the place for him-though Stoick, the old fool, doesn't see that. The boy has been hurt as badly as he could be-and every time he gets to draw breath, some idiot sneers another insult at him. But I know a place he can be for the moment. In fact…I'll go and see if I can arrange it now…"

When Astrid returned to the House, Hiccup had woken and was clothed in his new tunic and leggings, looking warmer but still very battered. She stole a glance at him and then walked forward. "I've brought Toothless," she said in a low voice. "Get your things and grab a couple of those furs." He frowned but didn't argue, rising to hop back to his bed and grab his boot and prosthesis. She watched him grimace in pain as he tightened the straps and the metal leg tightened against his raw stump. Then he pulled on his boot and wrapped the fur around his body. Astrid sighed, grabbed another fur and helped him limp painfully through the door and out to his dragon. His face lit and he stumbled to Toothless, embracing him silently for a long time. Then he painfully slid into the saddle.

Astrid jumped onto Stormfly and they soared up over the village, then looped down over the plaza and skimmed to the very edge of the village. They landed by the Elder's little house, perched on a seasick on the very edge of the town, connected by a long stair to the ramp to the harbour. Hiccup raised his wary green eyes and stared at her. "Astrid?" he asked shakily.

"Hiccup, Gothi has said she will look after you for the moment. She has room for you and Toothless and she lives far enough away from the main part of town to allow you some space. You can still access the forge, the Great Hall and the Arena but you don't have to put up with everything they have done to you," she explained, holding out the second fur. The boy gaped as she slid off her Nadder and held her hand out to him, helping off the Night Fury. He stared at her and fashioned a very small smile.

"Th-thanks," he murmured as the tiny, hunched shape of the Elder emerged and beckoned him into her home. He cast Astrid a wary glance, then limped after Gothi, with Toothless at his back. The tiny Elder scowled at him and then tapped his metal leg with her staff, jerking her head to a seat. She frowned until he reluctantly took the prosthesis off, then she grabbed his knee and inspected the stump. She rolled her eyes and smeared an ointment onto the raw wounds again. He gulped and stared at her until she sagged and ruffled his scruffy hair gently. "Er, Gothi…what do you want me to do to earn my keep?" he asked softly. She cocked a look over her shoulder as she bent over her fire and shook her head. her eyes seemed to say 'Nothing. Just rest.'

He sat self-consciously as she gave him a herbal tea that was warm and fragrant and a sturdy yak broth that was so thick a spoon could stand up in it. Once he had eaten, she limped over and dropped a huge volume in his lap. She tapped it and then pointed at him. "You-you want me to read this?" he asked. She nodded and then vanished out onto the deck that overlooked the sea. She had acquired a couple of small Terrible Terrors and she didn't like leaving then for too long because they squabbled and set her kindling on fire. He could hear the angry squawks of the feisty little dragons as they tumbled across the decking and then looked at Toothless, who had managed to curl himself almost totally around the boy. Hiccup leaned back and found himself supported agains Toothless's warm, scaly side. His eyes were growing heavy as he opened the hardened leather cover and peered at the first page.

When Gothi came in at dusk, the book had slipped onto the floor and Hiccup was sleeping peacefully against his dragon, his breaths calm and easy. She picked up the book of remedies-he had actually read through ten pages before he fell asleep-and restored it to its place on her shelf-then cut fish for the Terrors and Night Fury and stirred the brewing tea. The boy couldn't stay forever but she would look after him until he got his strength back.

She kept a cot in her hut for badly wounded or very sick villagers who needed her close attention and she helped the boy onto the cot and heaped the furs onto him. She salved his wounds, fed him more broth and bread and a different tea that had him drowsy and drifting back to sleep soon after he had drained the cup. She stared down at the sprawled, battered shape and then glanced in the direction of the village: sometimes, she wondered if Stoick could be a worse father. He had rejected his son throughout the last five or six years, barely accepted him when he saved the village almost at the cost of his own life but had never made Hiccup feel confident, comfortable or truly accepted and valued. That he would exile his son was utter madness and his subsequent actions had angered the Elder. Hiccup was a distant blood relative of Gothi through his mother-though the boy did not know this-and she was not going to let him suffer any more.

The next day was much the same. Hiccup had woken and been fed and dressed and then he had sneaked out for a morning ride on Toothless. Gothi had scolded him-well, slapped him with her staff-and padded and redressed his stump. He had dozed through the morning then gone to help Gobber in the afternoon, enduring the now-familiar sneers of slave and slut and Gobber's increasingly frustrated denials that he was having anything to do with anyone's weapons. The boy snorted. He had made the majority of the village's weapons for the last couple of years and had worked hard even when he returned to be worthy of keeping. The constant rejection only hardened his resolve not to stay.

Stoick didn't come to find him-presumably because Gobber had told him where Hiccup was. But that did little to dispel the boy's belief that his father truly didn't care. When he saw the big shape stride purposefully by without even casting his watching son a glance, he knew there was precisely no chance of his ever being accepted in the village. Hiccup had already worked out that the Hooligans would only ever get the message if their Chief rubbed their noses in his reconciliation with his son and led by example. It was something Stoick was able to do in every other area of life-but never as a father. In fact, Stoick seemed to have gone back to ignoring Hiccup and as the grief-stricken boy took a shuddering and miserable breath, he made his decision.

He went for lunch with Gobber that day and had endured the blizzard of insults and comments and-worse-he had seen his abusers eating further down the Hall. It had taken all his courage not to break and run and instead, avert his eyes and walk robotically to his seat. But his appetite had gone and he found his palms sweating and heart racing. An iron band seemed to have tightened around his chest and he inspected his plate carefully, picking his chicken leg to tiny shreds as Gobber rambled on and polished off his supersize portion. Then the blacksmith finally looked at his battered and mute apprentice.

"Wassup?" he asked directly. Hiccup stared at the table for a few moments, then, slowly, gestured with his spoon. The big blacksmith followed the direction until his eyes alighted on the cluster of guards, laughing and joking at the table. It was clear no one had even been punished for the assault on the boy.

"Gotta go!" Hiccup told him in a low voice and pushed away from the table, turning and accelerating into a shambling run as he dodged through the villagers and raced down the stairs, wincing as he jarred his sore stump but beyond caring. Gobber cast the oblivious guards a vicious look and lumbered to his feet. Despite Stoick's insistence on taking his boy home, nothing had changed. And it seemed to Gobber that nothing would ever change unless the Chief made it happen. He had spoken about calling a Thing, the village parliament, but so far, he had done nothing. Gobber wondered if the man had changed his mind. So he ambled off after the skinny shape, running awkwardly towards to the forge.

Gobber found the boy round the back, bowed forward with his hands on his bent knees, vomiting the little food he had taken in. His entire body was trembling and he looked white and gaunt. As Gobber arrived, he flinched and backed away, his eyes dark with fear and then…apology.

"'m sorry," he mumbled, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. Gobber gently approached him and caught his shoulder, staring at the bowed shape.

"Easy, lad," he sighed. "I know it's hard." Hiccup flicked a glance up from under his hair then looked down again.

"It shouldn't be," he protested softly. "I didn't deserve any of this-so why and I the one still being punished? Why does no one seem to think what…happened…was wrong? And why…why hasn't he said anything?" Gobber pulled off his helmet and rubbed his forehead.

"I don't know, laddie," he said heavily. "Sometimes, I wonder if that man remembers he has a son at all…" Hiccup straightened up a little more and took a shuddering breath, his ashen face still livid with bruises.

"Maybe when he finally decides, he won't have one," he said quietly and turned back to his work.

The next morning, Gothi had woken Hiccup gently and rechecked his wounds, then fed him and encouraged a soothing bath. Surprised at the consideration and the fact he seemed to be able to understand her even without words, he had done as she asked and had emerged a little later clean, relaxed and warm, just as the other riders dropped in.

They had brought his possessions: tunics, leggings, satchel, knife, cloak, thick winter under tunic, scarf and mittens. And Astrid had shyly presented him with the little stitched Nadder from his bed-the last thing he had of his mother. He had clutched the toy with shining eyes and thick throat. He gave a shuddering sigh. "Thanks, guys," he said in a small voice. "Really-for everything. But you know I have to leave." The twins gaped but Astrid gave a sad nod.

"And that's why I'm going with you," she said. He shook his head and groaned.

"Gods, no," he said slowly. "I-I can't take you from your home…" She walked to him and punched him in the arm. He yelped and grabbed at the injury. "Why…"

"I can't let you go alone!" she told him sternly.

"I'll be with Toothless. I won't be alone!" he protested. She caught his hand.

"I don't think you could be more alone," she said gently. "But you were right. My Dad…isn't happy I've been seeing you. He's saying…horrible things about you." Hiccup paled: he could guess. "But I have made my choice. I don't want to be given to some nobody with so-called honour and status when the amazing man I want is right here."

"Me?" Snotlout asked, not really paying attention. Ruffnut elbowed him: Astrid had confided in her and the female twin knew what her friend was planning. Hiccup stared into her face.

"I can't let you," he whispered. "Your home, your family…they will be lost to you if you do this. You will be assumed to have been…tainted…by being with me. If you come back, you could be sold or disowned. You will lose everything. And believe me-that is a horrible feeling. Don't throw everything away for me, Astrid!"

"Dagur will be looking for you," she reminded him. "You're still branded as a Berserker slave and travelling alone makes you more vulnerable. Travelling with someone else may be safer…"

"Especially Astrid Hofferson," he offered shyly. He wasn't much of a fighter on his own: determined but not that quick, stable or strong. She, on the other hand was excellent in all forms of combat and had never lost to Hiccup. He sagged. "Look, I can't stop you because I know you will follow me if I leave and Stormfly can track us. So I'm going to the forge and put in some work. I will need some provisions-dried yak jerky and smoked fish. And then I will leave tomorrow at dawn."

"Okay, dawn…" Snotlout said and Hiccup recoiled as the twins whooped and bumped helmets.

"NO!" he said more firmly. "You guys have to stay here and protect Berk. The Outcasts and Berserkers are still out there and Dagur will be back."

"Aww, c'mon!" Ruffnut pleaded. "It sounds like sooooo much fun…"

"Yeah, Hic-you can't survive without Thorston craziness!" Tuffnut protested. Hiccup ignored them and stared hard at Snotlout.

"You are the Heir now-you need to support my Dad after I go. All of you." Fishlegs stared at him and nodded.

"I'm gonna miss you," he said softly. Hiccup smiled.

"Look after the Book of Dragons and the Bork papers," he asked his friend then turned to Toothless. "C'mon, bud-let's go and see Gobber. I need to explain and say goodbye as well."

oOo

Dawn broke, pink and freezing cold. The grass was edged with frost and the muddy puddles were completely frozen over. Hiccup and Toothless emerged on the decking outside Gothi's house. He was warmly wrapped in his winter under tunic, his new tunic, fur vest, a cloak and mittens. His satchel and a saddle bag held his provisions, few belongings and his journal. His knife and a newly-forged sword hung from his narrow waist as he stiffly climbed onto the saddle. He cast a wistful look across, up the village and over the houses, still sleeping and quiet. A nagging guilt tugged at his heart that he was leaving his home and his father but the larger part of him reminded him that he had been abused, ostracised, outcast and finally attacked by the guards. Berk was no place for him now. He blinked.

The screech of a Nadder drew him back to the present and he lifted his head to see Astrid swoop in on Stormfly. She was also warmly dressed with cloak, winter leggings, fur hood, winter boots and a bag containing spare clothes, food and weapons. Her trusty axe was slung across her back. She landed by him and stared into his bruised face, reading his uncertainty. "Are you okay?" she asked him. "You know you don't have to do this." He nodded.

"Yes, I do," he said. "I need the time and space, Astrid. I know it's the coward's way, but I can't win. No matter what I do, I can't overcome their prejudices. I need to do something different, be someone different to remind myself I am not…nothing." He stared at the floor.

"So where will we go?" she asked. "Dragon Island?"

"That will be the second place they look-after the cove," he said quietly. "North is out of the question because winter is closing in fast-and I don't trust Dagur not have put the word out among the other islands. I'm heading to the Mainland." She stared at him.

"With the dragons?" she asked him, horrified. He nodded.

"If we travel at night once we get close, we can find places to conceal them during the day," he explained. "I can work in a forge or a shop or armoury. I speak several languages. I can draw. I'll find something to do." He shrugged.

"And me?" she asked him pointedly. He sighed.

"You will have no trouble," he said. "But look at me-there are a very limited number of things anyone would have me do." He pulled his cloak tighter. "Ready?" she nodded shortly.

"Ready," she said determinedly. "No turning back!"

"And I'm sorry," he said and tossed a handful of dragon nip straight into Stormfly's face. The dragon gave a puzzled croak and collapsed. "Now, bud!" he shouted and the Night Fury launched, arrowing the boy up into the freezing sky as Astrid leapt off and glared after him by her utterly incapacitated dragon.

"HICCUP!" she screamed.


	25. Valkan the Apprentice

He pulled the hood up further over his head as the mists swirled around the port. The air was icy, below freezing and dank and the day was grey and close. He was constantly jostled and barged but he learned to dodge and duck through the self-absorbed and burly Vikings stomping through the muddy streets.

The Port was a vibrant trading post with a hundred shops and almost as many taverns. Ships came from all over the Viking world and beyond, bringing treasures, tales, trade and trouble. He had learned to duck his head, modulate his naturally sarcastic tongue and try to fit in. Then he rounded the corner and made the local forge, nodding to the wiry middle-aged man who owned the premises. "Morning, Harald!" he called cheerily.

"And ye, Valkan!" the wiry man called his hammer already clanging rhythmically in the sword he was making. Hiccup shed his cloak, pulled on the leather apron and waited for orders from his new boss. The man easily handed over the weapon to the boy and Hiccup eagerly turned to the task, his strokes precise and measured. Harald hadn't believed his luck in acquiring such a skilled young man who had timidly introduced himself as an apprentice looking for a new master. Harald had been on the verge of asking why he had left his previous post but the savage bruising on the boy's face and neck gave him enough information not to press the point. If this skilled boy was running from an abusive employer, Harald wouldn't complain at his own good fortune and had taken him on immediately.

In the ten days he had been in the Port, Hiccup had adopted a routine: get up before dawn, fly Toothless, hide Toothless in the cave they had found, walk into town, work, gather a few provisions and then return to his friend and spend the night sleeping against his bud. It was lonely and largely mindless but at least it occupied him while he tried to heal and work out his next step.

He felt guilty about leaving Astrid-he really did because a large part of him would have given his other leg to have her at his side on this adventure. But he knew that her leaving with him would mean no one could ever assume she was unsullied and that would irrevocably ruin her chances of a good marriage-or a marriage at all. He had flown at dusk the previous day and very cautiously gathered the extra-strong dragon nip he used from a secret site he had discovered in the north of Berk. He had only known that it was super-potent when it took Toothless the best part of a day to wake after a mistaken roll in that patch of the herb. He guessed she would look for him but he had taken precautions as well and hoped she would get the message: this was his shipwreck of a life-she didn't need to go down with him.

He'd adopted the name Valkan, after his dead mother Valka, but he had offered no family name, explaining he had been found floated out to sea-as all runts were supposed to be by Tribal Law. He had always wondered why he had avoided that fate at the hands of his rigidly traditional father but assumed it was because his father and mother had struggled for so long to have a child that even a half-sized, early one was better than none at all. Still, it had provided a plausible cover story, given his persisting lack of stature and mass. Harald had been sceptical but had been convinced by his skills, even if he had doubted his strength until Hiccup had demonstrated his ability to create weapons to the man's satisfaction.

Harald was a widower with two daughters-Liv and Elin-who shared his mousy hair and greyish eyes. They were of an age when the auburn-haired lad had caught their eye but he had kept his head down and treated them politely but cautiously, not wishing to anger his employer by seeming over familiar with his precious girls. Still, he had enjoyed the lunches they had generously brought for them both as they worked in the warm forge and had blushed beet red as he overheard their girlish chat about the young apprentice and whether he would want to go out with one of them.

The warmth, despite the chilly time of year, had been his other problem. Harald thought nothing of stripping to the waist as the forge heated up and the men grew hot from their labour, but Hiccup had a couple of very major problems: namely his brand and his whip-scars. No one who saw them could assume anything other than the fact that he was an escaped slave. He couldn't even roll up his sleeves, because he had the word 'slave' carved into the inside of his left arm and the horrible scar on the back of his left wrist where Dagur had tried to cut his hand off. So he had sweltered and suffered in the heat for fear of betraying his secret.

On Freja's Day, the forge had closed and Harald had invited his apprentice to come to the market with his family. Hiccup had gratefully accepted, glad for human company. He had changed into his better deep red tunic and had tidied himself up as best he could before walking down to town. He had washed in the nearly icy stream and in warmed water in his cave and he had been relieved that his bruises and his black eyes had faded and the swelling around his throat had gone down. He looked less like a victim-but unfortunately, he still felt like one. He was jumpy, scared to be touched and his nights had been ruptured by nightmares: sometimes it was Dagur, sometimes Savage and every other night, it was the Berk Guard. He always woke tired and sweating in fear but Toothless had curled up tighter around him and soothed his fears. Toothless didn't mind sleeping in the cave during the day, provided he got a long flight after dark and a good lap around sunrise. But Hiccup had still hugged his dragon tightly before he went into town, making sure his best friend knew how much he loved and needed him.

Harald had dressed in his best brown tunic and Liv and Elin were in matching grey dresses, their hair dressed in an intricate braids that had stirred horrible homesickness in his breast: Astrid. Just at that moment, he really missed Astrid. But he had smiled politely and complimented the girls on their appearances. Harald had watched him suspiciously, but he had raised his green eyes and shook his head, reassuring his boss that he had no interest in his daughters. The blacksmith narrowed his eyes and watched the young man carefully but he was a perfect gentleman, respectful and kind to the younger girls.

The market had a myriad of stalls, selling sturdy wool and leather goods to carvings, cookware, offertory items and jewellery. There had been snacks and sweetmeats, roasting oxen and mutton, cured hams, stuffed birds, cider and ale and mead, apples and pears and cloudberries and honey. A dozen breads had assailed the nose as the raucous cries of the traders deafened the ears. Hiccup had inspected every stall politely as the girls had dragged their father back and forth, gushing and complaining and whining and begging-mainly with success. Hiccup had leaned close over a simple rope of azure beads, beautifully smoothed and carried all the way from the far south. They reminded him very much of Astrid's eyes and for a long moment, he felt unable to breathe, his eyes beginning to burn with misery. He blinked.

"That is a unique piece," the trader told him as an opening gambit. "Very rare. You only get that stone far to the south of here." Hiccup nodded: he knew exactly where the stones came from.

"They remind me of…someone's eyes," he admitted. The trader gave a slow grin, stroking his greyish beard.

"A fair maiden?" he pressed. Hiccup automatically nodded. "And lost?" Hiccup sighed.

"Lost to me," he murmured. The trader sighed.

"A shame," he mourned. "I would have given a discount for such a sad tale…" The boy's eyes narrowed.

"How much?"

"Fourteen."

"Six."

"Young sir, you drive a hard bargain. Thirteen."

"Six."

"I'm not sure you understand the concept of bargaining. Twelve."

"Six."

"No, I'm supposed to say 'eleven' and then you are supposed to counter with…"

"Six."

"Now, I'm not sure I can allow my price to slide so far while still making in a modicum of profit. Ten."

"Six."

"Are you going to make a better offer? Say…nine?"

"No. Will you take six?"

"Yes," the Trader sighed and accepted the coins, handing the necklace over to the boy, who stowed it on his pouch. Gobber had given him a handful of coins-most of what he had on hand-to keep the boy going and the necklace had taken much of that store, but he knew he had to have it. If nothing else because he could stare at the beads and recall the exact colour of her eyes. "If I may ask, young man, where did you learn to haggle like that?" Hiccup raised his green eyes and gave a small smile.

"Berk," he murmured. "We had to deal with Trader Johan." The man nodded in understanding, then turned to a-hopefully-more profitable customer. Hiccup turned away-to meet Harald's gaze. The blacksmith frowned at his purchase, suspecting his motives. But Hiccup shook his head. "I'm no threat to your daughters, sir," he told Harald firmly. "Back home…I had a girl. I had to leave…but this…" and he gestured to his pouch, "…was the colour of her eyes. I hope one day, I can get it to her…to say I am sorry."

Harald relaxed, seeming to accept his words-because Hiccup's eyes told him they were the truth. One day, he would give Astrid the necklace-and accept whatever penalty she exacted. He had no doubt it would be painful because she wasn't prone to just accepting a quick apology and forgiving anyone. So the boy had rejoined his party as they reached the far end of the stalls and found tanners selling skins and weavers and clothmen touting bales of wool, linen and silks. The girls had fixed their hearts on a bolt of stormy blue wool that would be suitable for dresses and skirts and while they bartered, Hiccup drifted along-until he saw something that made his heart freeze. It was a skin…but not from any animal. His hands began to tremble and he felt his heart race.

It was the skin of a Hideous Zippleback.

oOo

"Any sign of him?"

"Nothing. We've searched every island between here and Outcast Island."

"And you're sure he didn't go back there?"

Stoick gave Magnus such a glare that the man recoiled in terror. That was the kind of glare a man didn't get back up from and he never wanted to anger his Chief that much again.

"Absolutely," was the sub-zero reply.

"He wouldn't go that way anyway," Fishlegs said quietly. The Council of Elders looked at him: though Snotlout was the Heir, Fishlegs was the only option to take over the Academy. "He was never going to Dagur. he never would. He wouldn't go north because winter is coming. West is Dragon Island and then just tiny islets. He would know you could get every Chief in the Archipelago to hand him back. So he will head away from home completely."

"The Mainland?"

"I suspect, sir. But it's a big place. There are a hundred or more towns and ports he could hide in. His Night Fury is built for stealth. We could search for a year and not find a trace."

"Any news from Astrid?"

"Nothing, sir. But I pity Hiccup if she gets her hands on him!"

oOo

"News, your Derangedness!" Savage bowed low and avoided the mace that Dagur threw at him. The Berserker Chief had definitely been out of sorts since his slave and bedmate had been taken from him. Dagur missed Hiccup, missed the feeling of power and triumph he had every time he saw the boy in his clutches, missed his whimpering as Dagur hurt him, missed his cries and tears as Dagur forced him. Dagur just plain missed him. And despite the way he had been disposed of, he wanted him back.

"This had better be good, Savage!" the Berserker sneered, lifting a hammer and weighing it in his hands. He twirled in menacingly.

"Our sources in Berk inform us that the boy has gone!"

"WHAT?"

"Hiccup has run away from Berk-on the dragon, of course," Savage said, bowing low as he saw the hammer flying toward him as well.

"Oh, brother!" Dagur cried in his sing-song voice. "You just couldn't keep away from me, could you? So you want to lead your brother in a joyous chase. So we will set our hounds to chase you down, my little slave. Every island, every trading post, every port! Offer his weight in silver. They will seek for you and bring you back to me, back to my bed, where you belong!" Savage watched him cautiously.

"Sir…I mean, your Derangedness…what description should we give of Hiccup?" he asked. Dagur rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on!" he whined. "Surely you can do that?" Savage looked carefully blank. "Okay-short, dark red hair, cute little freckles, soft pink lips that quiver as you ravage them, glorious, expressive emerald green eyes that just beg you to fuck him, pert little ass that can handle any…"

"Erm, I'll go for short, auburn, green eyes, one leg, Night Fury and Berserker brand on the shoulder with whipped back," Savage said, seeing the Berserk Chief drift off into a pleasant daydream of raping the resisting boy once more. He turned quietly to the door-and he was still quick enough to miss the axe Dagur flung at his head.

oOo

Hiccup inspected the stall with mounting horror: almost every item there was made from a dragon. As well as Zippleback hides and items made from the hide, there were Nadder spikes and scales, cured Gronckle meat, Monstrous Nightmare bone ornaments, Terror liver tablets, Flightmare gel, Skrill-skin armour and every possible variety of dragon tooth. He literally felt sick at the sight of the stall. He backed away, his eyes wide as the man turned to look at his customer.

"Are…are these…?" he stammered and the smallholder gave a wink.

"Aye, lad-they're all made from dragons!" His tone oozed seduction, trying to sell the exotic nature of his good as if they weren't the abhorrence they were to the Dragon Rider. Hiccup swallowed and tried to force himself to look impressed.

"Er, wow," he managed in a tiny voice, swallowing hard against the nausea. "Where-where would you get such amazing things?" The smallholder winked.

"I have my sources," he said coyly. Hiccup forced his eyes to look pleading. he knew he looked smaller and younger than his years and hoped the man would buy the excited young teen act.

"C-cool. How would I go around catching a dragon?" he asked in a soft voice, forcing himself to stare at a Monstrous Nightmare skull. He was trying really hard not to think of Hookfang, Snotlout's Nightmare-a powerful, strong-willed and prank-prone dragon that Hiccup liked greatly. The man leaned forward and ruffled his hair.

"If you eat your meat and drink your mead, you may grow up big and strong enough to become a Dragon Trapper!" he encouraged the boy. He looked at the man and his eyes widened.

"Really?" he asked, forcing himself not to tremble. His love of dragons was-just-overcoming his fear of exposing himself this openly to someone he didn't know and allowing him to touch him. Unsolicited touching was still off-limits. The man winked.

"Their ship will be moored for another day or so as they take on provisions and take shore leave," he assured the boy. "It's the big one with the white sail and what looks like a smaller boat attached to the side." Hiccup nodded in thanks and turned to run towards the docks, grateful to get away from the stall and the whole situation. Once he was round the corner, he stopped, bent forward and swallowed hard against the nausea and the panic. It took him a few long minutes to regain control and finally, he straightened up and set off for the docks, focussed on his mission.

The ship was easy to find, far larger than any longboat moored and unique in its configuration. The white sail flapped against the skeins of mist with its unfamiliar device which Hiccup committed to memory. Then he cautiously approached the ship and peered up the gangplank. The deck seemed empty as the crew were probably on the shore. But he could hear the scrabbling of claws and the croaking cry of a dragon in distress. Looking around, he ducked and scampered up onto the ship.

Once on board, he glanced around fearfully and pressed against the hull until he got his bearings. The huge mast dominated the centre of the deck while the deck itself was huge. A hatch to one side led below decks while the stern was dominated by cabins. Hiccup reckoned the ship was at least twice as large as the biggest longboat in the Berkian fleet. But on the deck, there were several cages and all contained dragons in various states of distress. The one which had made the noise was a Nadder in pale blue. Hiccup stilled and his eyes widened but as he looked at her, he saw it wasn't Stormfly.

"Thank Thor," he breathed and cautiously sneaked over to the dragon, crouching by the lock and stretching his hand through to reassure the dragon. He swiftly calmed his breathing, turned his head away and felt the beaky muzzle press into his outstretched hand. Then he turned to her and stroked her tenderly. "Easy, girl," he murmured. "It'll be okay. Let me get you out of here. I just need to see to this lock and then I can take you to meet Toothless. Now won't that be great, hmm?" The dragon gave a little croon as he turned his attention to the lock-a surprisingly complex and sturdy device for a cage. Then Hiccup ran his hands over the metal and realised it felt denser and different to anything he was used to and he leaned closer to the lock, wondering how he could pick this one.

Then a huge hand grabbed his collar and he was wrenched up. A brutal cuff collided with his cheek, snapping his head back and he hissed in pain. A large and menacing man loomed over him, his fist raised.

"What the Hel are you doing with that dragon?"


	26. Dragon Hunters and Dragon Fights

He stared up in horror at the stranger, a tall man with shaven head, dark chocolate eyes and a tiny manicured beard that was a mere stripe on his chin. His body was muscular and powerful and his face was cruel. His garb-long sleeveless tunic, wide belt and matching leggings was so alien that Hiccup just stared. And then the man cuffed him again and he cried out, his mind congealing in anxiety at his sudden sense of total vulnerability. He heard the dragon begin to squawk in fear and knew this was one of the Trappers, a man who caught and carved up dragons for a living.

Remember you're a young teen. Remember you're younger, Hiccup. Play young and scared.

Won't be much of a stretch.

"I-I wanted to see one close up!" he squeaked. "I-I've never seen dragon b-before!" The man cuffed him again. "I-I'm sorry!" he whimpered, not really needing to act.

"You have no right to be here!" the man shouted, the violence of his voice making the boy cringe back in terror. A series of brutal slaps crashed into his face and he cried out as he was struck, trembling in fear and almost incoherent. "Stay off the boat, boy! If I catch you again, I'll take my belt to you and you won't walk for a week!" A final savage slap slammed him to the deck on his face, sobbing and trying to protect his head. He couldn't help it: he just couldn't cope with the physical abuse any more.

"I-I'm s-sorry," he whimpered as he frantically scrabbled to get to his feet and ran unsteadily for the gangplank. As soon as he hit the walkway, he ran for it, his head down and tears streaming over the livid welts on his face. He could barely breathe and he felt dizzy. He just managed to find a quiet corner to slump down into before his legs collapsed. He curled up as small as he could, his knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped tightly around his legs as he buried his face in his knees. He was shuddering with sobs as he tried to calm himself. The moment had taken him back to Outcast Island, back to Dagur and Savage and every other Outcast there who had tortured him.

But he wasn't on Outcast Island. He was on the Mainland.

And he had just faced a Dragon Trapper.

The thought managed to snap him out of the cycle of panic and focussed his thoughts once again on the problem at hand: there were Dragon Trappers in the Port. And Toothless was in the cave. What if he came looking for Hiccup? What if he was captured? What if…?

Toothless had never come into town so far-Hiccup had ordered and begged him not to. There is no reason why he should now. He had to trust to his dragon. He had to pull himself together-or people would start to look closer at him and he could get discovered. He swiped his sleeves across his face, trying to dry his skin and wipe away any stray tears. He forced his breathing to calm and swallowed hard against his fear. But he still needed a moment longer to properly slow his breathing and heart rate down and he clutched his knees tighter to his chest.

What had he been thinking? He could have been killed, or enslaved or…or badly hurt. What would Toothless do then? But seeing the dragons, so distressed and terrified and facing death and dismantling for parts…it turned his stomach. He lifted his chin slightly. He knew now he would have to go back, have to try to free them.

"Valkan?"

His head snapped up and he met the concerned gaze of Harald and his daughters. He groaned and dropped his head again. "Hi, Harald," he sighed.

"Are you alright, boy?" the blacksmith asked gently. Hiccup swallowed and lifted his head, the livid welts on his face obvious. He nodded.

"I...he…found me…" he said in a shaky voice, his red eyes confirming his distress. Harald gave a nod of sudden realisation and reached out to pat the boy on the shoulder but Hiccup cringed back. "No!" he gasped and Harald froze. "S-sorry," the boy added in a quavering voice. "B-but he…he had hurt me repeatedly in the past and I-I'm not very good being touched…" Harald drew back, his face suspicious. Hiccup sighed, braced his hands and levered himself to his feet, wincing as he put pressure through his prosthesis. The blacksmith pointed to his leg, keeping his distance.

"You never told me how that happened," he said gruffly. Hiccup sighed.

"Dragon attack," he replied, his voice a little steadier. It was almost the truth. "I-I nearly died as a result. My first master made the metal leg: he wanted me to be able to run and be a normal Viking…as much as I could be. But then…he was gone and my new master just saw a worthless one-legged runt and treated me however he wanted." His voice was bleak and then he forced himself to meet Harald's gaze. "Sorry," he mumbled. Elin darted forward and took his arm, holding his hand reassuringly. He went rigid and his eyes widened. For a long moment he remained motionless and then, very slowly, he pulled away from her. Harald saw the utter fear in his face and gently pulled his daughter away.

"It's okay," he told her and she backed away, looking shocked. Hiccup cautiously swiped his sleeve across his face again and sighed.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I never meant to ruin your day." He took a deep breath and visibly calmed himself then gave a very tiny smile. "Let me make it up to you. You have treated me to meals so often: I think I should return the favour." Harald nodded, shepherding his daughter away from the strange young man and Hiccup sighed inwardly. He guessed he may have ruined his relationship with the blacksmith but he still followed them to the stall of their choice and paid for the tender roasted mutton, crusty bread and honey mead they chose. It cleaned out almost all of the rest of his coins but he knew he owed them. Going forward, he would have to rely on what he could earn for himself. The girls were looking at him curiously.

"Didn't you like Elin holding your hand?" Liv asked him pointedly, seeing the hurt in her sister's eyes. Hiccup stared at the ground.

"It was…kind," he said carefully. "But I get scared when someone touches me without permission. My previous master used to hurt me for fun and I guess I still need to get used to being touched like a normal person." He gave a pained smile. "It wasn't her fault, Liv. It was me." She nodded and rejoined her sister as Harald came to stand by his side. Hiccup had eaten at the very edge of the group, hunched and closed on himself but the blacksmith had been observing him carefully. He drained his mug and leaned closer to the boy.

"I know what kind of hurt makes a boy flinch at being touched," he said in a low voice.

"Oh." His cheeks flared. Suddenly, his heart was galloping in his chest and his chest tightened.

"I don't think you're a danger to my daughters, Valkan. I'd prefer you didn't speak with them, though."

"I…understand. I mean them no harm, Harald. Can I still thank them if they come to the forge?" The voice was hopeful and the blacksmith sighed.

"If they come," he said, making a mental note to forbid his daughters to come to the forge, even to bring lunch. Hiccup saw the expression cross his face and his face fell. He suddenly felt cold.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked in a dull voice. Harald stared at him and recalled the horrible bruises he had when he first arrived and the timid, fearful voice as he had pleaded for a position. And he recalled the boy was a fine smith who had almost certainly not sought or wanted any of the hurts he had endured. He was stained, for sure, but he was still a decent young man.

"No, lad. You're a good smith and you don't need much more apprenticing, to be honest. You work hard and you've never done anything wrong. Stay." Hiccup looked up and a small smile played on his pale face.

"Thanks," he said and finished his mead. Then he looked up at the blacksmith. "I-I know this may sound weird but…do you have dragons here?" The blacksmith stared. "There-there was a stall selling things made from dragons…and I've never seen anything like that before…" The smith stared at him-then laughed.

"You don't need to fear for your other leg, Valkan!" he guffawed. "They don't raid here. The Dragon Hunters and Trappers bring carcasses and pelts for the stalls but they also bring the new dragons to the Arena for games."

"Arena?" Hiccup felt his breath freeze.

"Yes. It's further up the docks. They'll have a new consignment in on the Trapper ships for the games tomorrow. Maybe we should go? It may cheer you up, watching a few dragons slain in recompense for your leg." Hiccup stared up at him and tried not to look ill.

"That would be great," he murmured, forcing an unconvincing smile onto his lips. He knew now why some of those dragons were looking so anxious. "Thank you!" Harald nodded and turned back to his daughters.

"It's getting late," he told the girls, "and it's been a tiring day. And we have a lot of packages to carry back!" They giggled and Hiccup watched them, his heart sinking. Harald turned to the boy and he sighed.

"Sorry for ruining your day," Hiccup mumbled, staring at the ground. But the man patted him on the shoulder and though he flinched, there was a look of gratitude in his face.

"Valkan, I can see you have suffered in the past," the blacksmith told him slowly. "But you have been generous with what little you have. I'll see you in the morning." The boy nodded and gave a wan smile.

"I'll be there," he promised and waved as they drifted off back into the town, towards their little cottage. He shivered as they vanished, then turned and walked back towards the docks. Even though his stomach was dancing, he quietly walked back past the Dragon Trapper ship and further along the docks towards the Arena. No one was paying any attention to the hunched small shape, drifting towards the squat stone building at the far end. Hiccup stared at it: it was very different from the Berk Dragon Training Arena which was a sunken bowl with seats and standing ranged above and a roof composed of chains to prevent escape. This place felt alien and cold.

He saw a guard and froze, then sank back into the shadows as the man yawned and ambled off. Taking his courage in his hands, he darted forward and dived down a narrow ramp, finding himself facing a series of cages-and dragons. He froze and stared at them: they were scared and beaten down, a selection of creatures that had been ripped from their homes, abused and were now threatened with death. He felt his stomach clutch in sympathy and approached the nearest cage: it was the little Nadder he had seen on the ship. Quietly, he walked forward and offered her his hand. Immediately, she pressed her face against it and he leaned forward, gently crooning and murmuring reassurance.

"Easy, girl," he soothed. "I'm sorry we got interrupted. I know you're scared but I still wanna help. I will find a way to get you out of here." He gave her a final pat then backed away, Quietly, he walked along the bank of cages and saw a green Monstrous Nightmare, another larger Nadder, a defeated-looking Zippleback and a three legged dragon of a type he had never seen. It looked at him with big pleading eyes and he gently stroked its face. He stared along the line of cages and felt anger rise in his throat. Tomorrow night, these dragons would be killed for sport.

Then he stiffened: he could hear steps approaching and he shrank into the shadows again. The guard was back-with two other men. One was the big man from the ship who had beaten him and the other was a merchant, richly dressed in deep blue tunic and leggings, shiny boots and a thick fur cloak with embellished bronze boss. The merchant stopped and glanced across the cages.

"Another fine batch, Ryker," he said cheerfully. "Should be a good games." The big man scowled.

"When will I receive my fee?" he growled. "I have to sail and can't wait around forever for you to bother to remember to pay for your dragons." The merchant looked evasive.

"The festival has disrupted things," he said shiftily. "We should be able to pay after the games." The Trapper leaned close, his expression very unpleasant.

"Viggo doesn't like being kept waiting-and neither do I," he purred. "You'll pay me tomorrow or I take back my wares. I have other customers and other cargo to deliver." The merchant backed away, unnerved by the aura of controlled violence surrounding the other man.

"Of-of course," he squeaked. "I wouldn't want to anger Viggo. Your wares are always the best…I am sure we can reach an accommodation…"

"Tomorrow," the large Trapper growled and stalked away, back towards his ship. Hiccup heard the guard and merchant retreat and peeked out nervously. It seemed he wasn't the one one who found that big Trapper terrifying-but he knew now that he needed to do something about it. He couldn't risk those dragons being killed. But it would be risky.

He shook himself. Running away was risky. Leaving his friends behind was risky. Riding a dragon was risky. Hel, being a Viking was risky! But if he did nothing, he was as good as helping the Trappers and merchants kill the dragons. He sighed, pulled his hood up and set off determinedly out of town and back up the hill: he needed Toothless.

The Night Fury was awake and bored, ecstatic that Hiccup had returned and determined to go for a flight. The boy ran to his dragon and hugged and petted him to reassure himself and soothe his shattered nerves. The day had been more exhausting than he had anticipated, the stresses of being in the crowds and trying to keep himself together in front of Harald-which he had really badly failed at-had worn him out. But the most tiring part of the day was ahead.

"I think we have a mission, bud," he murmured. "I need your speed-and your stealth. There are some dragons here who are facing death. We gotta free them. And there are some men here…who trap dragons. They catch them either to kill and sell for spare parts-or put in the Arena to be slain for sport." He face fell. "I can't let that happen." Toothless nuzzled him carefully, sensing his distress. "Bud-this is about who I am. What I am. I used to be a lot of things-son of the Chief, a Hooligan, a dragon trainer and Head of the Academy…but now, all I am is your rider and possibly a Berserker slave. I don't want that to be what defines me. I want to make a difference. I want to free those poor dragons." He wrapped his arms around the dragon's head and hugged him tight, his silent embrace testament to his determination. Finally, he nuzzled the dragon again.

"Sorry, bud," he murmured. Then he carefully pulled up his hood and cloak and wrapped his scarf over the lower half of his face, concealing his face. "We'll do a lap first and then, when the night fogs roll in, we can see what we can do for those dragons."

Toothless soared high and largely silent above the port, a fast and focussed flight that had Hiccup hanging on tightly as they were careful not to present any sort of target for the Trappers. Hiccup banked to inspect the Arena and overfly the Trapper's ship and his sharp eyes picked out the frantic shapes of dragons in the cages on the deck. He felt his stomach lurch and then they swooped away as the temperature dropped and the fogs began to roll in from the sea, swathing the port in the cold, grey blanket. Hovering, they watched until the town was buried in the mists and then Toothless soared forward, diving down to land almost silently by the Arena. Hiccup slipped from the saddle and approached the first cage: it was the little Nadder that had reminded him so strongly of Stormfly. His hands were shaking as he deftly pulled the bolts back and the door creaked open.

"Go!" he whispered. "Be free!" She darted forward and then paused, pressing her muzzle hard against his hand. He gave a final stroke. "GO!" he hissed and she took off silently into the fog. Methodically, he went from cage to cage, silently releasing every single strapped dragon until he reached the final cage and a limp little Terrible Terror. Swallowing his fear, he slipped into he cage and scooped the small dragon into his arms. The dragon was alive but it had a nasty wound over its head and an eye was smeared with blood. He gave the injured dragon a gentle stroke then tucked it into Toothless's saddle bag. "Easy, little guy," he murmured. "I'll get you to safety…" And then he swung into the saddle.

They swooped up into the fogs and looped around, then hovered over the Trappers' ship, trusting to the Night Fury's natural stealth to protect them. There was only one guard visible on the deck and four dragons all in cages, looking beaten and defeated. With a silent prayer, Hiccup swooped Toothless down and the dragon landed almost silently by the prow. The fog swirled as the boy slid from the saddle and sneaked to the nearest cage. This time, he had brought a slim knife and expertly picked the lock: Gobber had taught him how to make, break and pick locks a long time ago. As soon as it was free, he snapped the door open and waved the dragon out, then pushed the door to. He was relying heavily on Toothless to warn him of any danger in the cold silence of the fog. But the other cages posed no more problem than the first and he almost gasped in relief as the final dragon flapped away.

Then a roar alerted him and he stiffened: it came from below. There were other dragons on the ship-and he felt his stomach lurch at leaving any dragon at the mercies of the Trappers. He froze, trying to decide if he should try for them as well-but Toothless gave a frantic roar and he raced for the dragon as he heard heavy steps on the deck. Shapes loomed out of the fog as the faintest flutter of a breeze arose.

"THE DRAGONS!"

He ducked away and they saw his shape. "INTRUDER!" came the cry. Hands grabbed at him and he gave a low cry then wriggled away, kicking out with his prosthesis and hitting a leg. A yowl of pain rewarded him as he staggered up to the rail and his frantic dragon. Panting, he threw himself into the saddle.

"C'mon, bud!" he hissed. "Get us outta here!"

They launched to the shouts of "NIGHT FURY!" and he shuddered as he heard the voice of the big man who had caught him before. "Get that dragon!" the man roared and the thunder of obedient steps sounded with the creak of catapults being armed loud in the night-time docks. Hiccup leaned low over the saddle as he suddenly heard the swish of catapults and a steel bola sliced past them. His eyes widened in shock and he dinked sideways. It was the worst thing he could do as another steel bola slashed through the prosthetic tail and Toothless gave a desperate roar as they began to sag and fall away. Hiccup held on for dear life as they slammed into the shore, just beyond the town limits. He felt the breath knocked out of him and the bush they landed in scratched his face and arms terribly. But as he was trying to release himself from the saddle and the vicious gorse, the breeze picked and and the fog suddenly thinned. Shouts sounded and he looked up: he could see the Trappers point at them. Shouts rang across the water and he could hear boats launch and the splash of oars. They were being hunted.

Toothless was limping, a deep cut in his leg from the first bola that Hiccup hadn't noted and he immediately felt incredibly guilty. He stared at it in horror: they had to get back to the cave and he needed to treat his dragon. The best he could do was wind a crude bandage made of his scarf over the deep cut to slow the bleeding and he sagged in dismay. Toothless certainly couldn't gallop them both up the hill as he had hoped: he would have to walk with him. "I'm so sorry, bud," Hiccup gasped as he stroked his friend. "But we need to go. This men will capture you and put you in a cage. I can't imagine what they'd do to me. Please…" The dragon gave a pained croon and limped alongside the boy. Hiccup wasn't fast either and the two were painfully aware of the approaching Trappers. Hiccup was in an agony of guilt as he tried to hasten the dragon along but Toothless was hobbled and far slower than Hiccup had ever seen him.

The sounds were closing as Hiccup ripped his hood back, His arms and face were scratched and he was shaking in fear as he drove his dragon on. He could hear the hunters coming after him. "Nearly there, bud," he encouraged, his heart fluttering in his chest. The dragon gave a little reassuring croon. Hiccup's breathing had accelerated and his palms were sweaty with fear: he had to get Toothless to safety and then lead them away. He glanced behind. The fog was really thinning now and with it, his cover. He could see lanterns closing as he ducked across a low gulley and reached the little cliff where their cave was hidden. He almost sighed in relief.

"Thank Thor," he gasped as he reached the impenetrable darkness of the cave entrance. "C'mon, bud. nearly there…"

And then a fist crashed out of the darkness and slammed straight into his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I reckoned Ryker, Viggo and co would be in business at this time-just nowhere near Berk.


	27. Found

He went down with a crash, the shock still swathing him even as the pain began to register. He gave a gasp of fear and rolled back, seeing a shape emerge from the darkness, with the croak of a Nadder sounding behind it. His hand pressed against his bleeding lip, Hiccup stared up as a furious shape glared down on him, cold blue eyes scanning his face and an axe clamped in a clenched fist.

"Hi, Astrid," Hiccup groaned and waved Toothless into the cave. "Get Stormfly back and keep out of sight!" He crab-crawled backwards as she advanced on him and tried to get to his feet. "Please-this is important! We're in danger!"

"You ran away!" she hissed. "I trusted you and you put my dragon out of action for a whole day!" He staggered up and found her punching him again. He slammed to the floor once more, looking up in horror. The utter panic was beginning to surge through his body at the blows but he fought for control, desperate to get away from the Trappers.

"Please-I only wanted to protect you!" he begged.

"I can protect myself!" she snapped. He looked back in agony-the crashing of the hunters was closing rapidly-and stumbled up again.

"From me!" he hissed. "You run away with the Berserker slave and you are ruined. I couldn't do that to you. Now will you please trust me? We need to be quiet because those are hunters and they…"

"TRUST YOU?" she snarled. "I trusted you and you betrayed me! You ran away! You think I'm trusting anything you say right now?"

"You really oughtta!" he said, lunging at her to push her back into the cave but she wasn't having that and threw him to the ground, landing over him to pin him to the rock. His eyes widened and finally total panic overtook him. The shape over him morphed from the furious but welcome shape of Astrid to the deranged outline of the Berserker. He gave a low gasp of terror. And then his instincts took over. Using every ounce of his strength, he threw her off him and rolled onto her, his hands pinning her down helpless. He leaned close.

"GET OFF ME!" she shouted, hating the feeling of being helpless. She thrashed and struggled but he had her completely immobilised, his scrawny shape exerting pressure in the precise points to render her vulnerable. The points where he had always been pinned.

"It's not so much fun when you're immobilised, is it?" he said suddenly, staring down onto her. "Believe me, I know. I hate being pinned. Please, Astrid-never do that again…"

And then a pair of hands wrenched him off her and he screamed, thrashing in panic as he was hauled up and his arms pinned. The blind terror in his green gaze was pitiful as Astrid slowly rose to her feet, breathing hard. Four hunters had found them and she stared at their strange garb in shock. They scanned the clearing but there was no sign of the dragons so the other five with them ran on as the hunters held Hiccup.

"Are you alright?" the leader growled. He was the same large man that Hiccup had met previously. Astrid stared up at him, blinking in shock. She nodded, suddenly wary. Hiccup was utterly terrified. "We heard you cry for help and when we found him…well, if you want us to deal with him, we'll be happy to!" The dull light of the lanterns abruptly gleamed off the edge of a nasty looking boning knife and Hiccup fought even harder. Then the man turned to the helpless boy.

"I see you turned your interest from dragons to more attractive prey," he hissed and Hiccup froze, his eyes wide. The trapper lifted the knife, tracing it down his bloody face, the tip lightly stroking the livid welts from his own hand and the blood from Astrid's punch. "But trying to force her is really not acceptable!" He fisted Hiccup's hair and pulled his head back, the knife hovering over his throat. Astrid shook herself, mesmerised by the confrontation until she abruptly realised the man was going to kill Hiccup.

"NO!" she said suddenly. "Don't hurt him! He didn't do anything!" The Trapper slowly swivelled his head to inspect her like an insect.

"I can see blood on his face from your punch and found you pinned under him, screaming for him to get off," he growled. "Didn't do anything? Not for want of trying!" She shook her head.

"He doesn't mean any harm!" she said, her voice pleading. She could see there was no chance of fighting them off without them killing Hiccup. She had to bargain for his life and play the helpless stupid girlfriend. "Please, he's a really nice guy but he just had a bit too much mead and I kinda led him on and then I sorta lost my nerve and…" She paused. "Don't hurt him! Please…" The big man frowned and stared into the terrified face. He motioned to the other man not restraining the boy.

"See to it he learns his lesson," he ordered and grabbed a lantern. "We still need to find that Night Fury!" And he stomped off into the gloom as Astrid felt her breath hitch in shock. They were actually hunting Toothless? Her gaze swung treacherously back to Hiccup, who was being held even firmer, his arms twisted agonisingly behind him as the third man cracked his fists then began to punch the helpless boy. Astrid stared and ran forward.

"No!" she protested and grabbed his arm but she was thrown aside as the beating continued. Only for a handful more punches and kicks, but enough to leave him curled and limp on the ground as they grabbed their lanterns and trotted off after their leader. Astrid stared after them, then urgently scooted to Hiccup's side. "I'm so sorry…" she whispered.

He pulled away from her and buried his face in the crook of his arm. His bony shoulders were jerking and he gave a low moan as he tried to master his pain. Then, still ignoring her, he began to drag himself across the rocky ground towards the cave mouth. "Toothless?" he murmured. "You there, bud?"

"Hiccup!" Astrid said the worriedly, walking to intercept him. "Talk to me!"

"Go away, Astrid!" he said roughly. "Go back to Berk where you belong!" She determinedly stood in his way, then dropped to her haunches in front of him, forcing him to look at her.

"I belong with you," she told him angrily. "Do you know how hard it has been to find you?"

"Actually, yes since I was the one trying to throw you off my trail," he murmured thickly. "So you found me. I'm not coming back. Go home."

"I'm here now and I'm not leaving without you," she said determinedly. Then, finally, he looked up, his shadowed green eyes filled with anger and fear. Wincing, he managed to get to his knees.

"What makes you think I want you here with me?" he asked her directly. She gaped. "Astrid, I drugged Stormfly for a reason. I didn't want you with me. I didn't want the guilt of ruining your life as well as my own. No one will believe you kept your honour if you ran away with me!" He sighed. "And why would you think I would want you to stay when you greet me with a punch in the face? Did you really think that was the right thing when you know how badly I've suffered?"

Her jaw dropped. "I-I was angry because you lied to me and tricked me!" she snapped. She was not going to feel guilty. "I was sent to bring you back-which I'm not going to do-but I'm not going home without you either because that would dishonour me. So you can either dishonour me or dishonour me. Your choice." He crawled forward.

"Toothless is injured," he said stiffly and pushed past her, embracing the Night Fury fiercely. "I-I'm so sorry. Bud. This was all my fault."

Still angry but now-unwillingly-starting to feel ashamed of the anger and frustration she had clung to during over two weeks of searching for the boy and had unfairly taken out on him, Astrid turned to stand behind him. "Can I help?" she asked in a gentler voice. He stiffened and seemed on the verge of refusing but he was in pain and knew he could treat his friend better with her help.

"My saddlebag," he murmured, gesturing vaguely. "There are bandages and salve Gothi gave me. Toothless is hurt." The Night Fury looked at his Rider with big green eyes, far more concerned that the skinny shape in front of him was battered and leaking blood than about his own admittedly-painful leg. Hiccup grimaced. "I'm okay, bud. Just a little bruised." Astrid grabbed the leather satchel and handed it to Hiccup and the boy carefully drew out bandages and salves and then leaned towards the leg, bound with a bloodstained scarf. Astrid crouched down and frowned.

"What did this?" she asked in shock.

"A steel bola, thrown by a catapult," Hiccup said quietly, wincing as he peeled away the scarf and saw the ragged gash. "Easy, bud. It's okay."

"Hiccup-why were you dodging steel bolas?" Astrid asked him carefully. He soothed the thick salve into oozing wound, hissing in pain as he pulled on his own wounds. He absently scooped another handful and carefully rubbed it in.

"Those men were Dragon Trappers, Astrid," he said in a distant voice. "They capture dragons to sell to arenas for Dragon Training or to be killed for sport. Or they cut them up for…parts." His voice was shaking. "I couldn't rest while it was happening. So I released the dragons from the arena and those on the deck of the Trappers' ship. Unfortunately they noticed and…er…they objected."

"And that's why they were chasing you," she realised. "I'm sorry, Hiccup…" His eyes flicked up but then he looked down and concentrated on winding the bandage round the dragon's leg. Toothless gave a little whine but he nuzzled Hiccup's shoulder to reassure the boy that he appreciated the help.

"Go back to Berk," he told her softly, fastening the bandage. "There's nothing here for you." She stared at him.

"Hiccup!" she protested, her eyes hurt.

"You just harm yourself by being here. Tell my father I am alive and may come home one day." His voice was determined.

"I've been searching for you because I care!" she snapped.

"How much do you care, Astrid?" Hiccup said sharply, looking up from under his messy auburn hair as he smoothed the bandage carefully. "Enough to punch me in the face? Twice? Enough to throw me to the ground and pin me helpless? Enough to get me taken by the hunters and beaten for…for trying to assault you? Tell me!"

"I-I…"

"Astrid, you know how much I've been hurt," he whispered. "I'm really struggling even being touched by another person. Any violence makes me cringe. I-I…don't feel like me any more. I needed to help those dragons to be something other than just a Berserker slave." He swallowed. "I needed to be Dragon Trainer again."

"Hiccup-I am really sorry," she said in a soft voice. "I was so worried because you were so badly hurt. I…I can't imagine Berk without you. I don't want to stay on Berk without you. Please…don't send me away!"

Hiccup stared at the ground and levered himself up, staggering to the side of the cave and tossing down a pile of wood that he had collected. Painfully, he assembled a fire. "Bud, if you could…?" he murmured and the dragon gave a small plasma blast that ignited the wood. Then the boy forced himself to peek into the saddle-bag and lifted out the battered little shape of the Terrible Terror, his wing broken and face smeared with blood. Carefully, he wiped the dragon's wounds and used the last of the salve to tend the wounds. He worried about the eye: he wondered if the little dragon would lose it. He sighed: there was no salve left for himself but he reckoned the dragons needed it more and he cast the empty pot into the bag wearily. Finally, he splinted the wing using a small piece of wood and then wrapped the Terror in the blood-stained scarf, lying him close enough to the fire to keep him warm.

Then he more or less collapsed to his knees and curled up by his wounded dragon, dragging his cloak over his battered shape and closing his eyes. He heard Astrid breathing, her feet shuffling as she waited for his answer. But honestly, he was far too tired to argue any more. "I have nightmares," he warned her wearily. "You may be disturbed."

Astrid sat down and stared at him as his eyes closed and he sank into sleep. Stormfly curled behind her and gave a little caw. She sighed as she leaned back against him. "Yes, girl-I think I messed up," she sighed. "I just hope he'll let me stay because I really worry about him."

She was woken by a scream, heart-wrenching and desolate as Hiccup sat up, wide-eyed and unseeing. "DAGUR! NO! Pleasepleaseplease don't do this, don't hurt me, don't make me…" He was trying to curl behind his arms, tears streaking his pallid and bruised face. "PLEASE! I wanted my first to be her…oh Astrid, I'm so sorry…I couldn't stop him, I let you down…I can never be yours now…you deserve so much better that this…I'm so sorry…" He was sobbing now, reliving his rape and she stared at him in horror, never realising how much he had hoped…and how much he had lost. Her heart shuddered in pity for him as she saw him begging her unseen self for forgiveness for being ruined by the Berserker Chief. Her eyes burned with tears at the utter misery in his voice. And she found herself crawling over to the sobbing shape, wrapping her arms around his shaking body and pulling him into her embrace.

"It's okay, Hiccup-I'm here now," she soothed him, feeling him curl against her and bury his head in her neck. She stroked his hair and encircled him in her strong arms. He nuzzled closer. "You're safe-I'm here." She felt his arms close around her and she rested her head on his. "It's okay," she repeated as they snuggled together and drifted into sleep with Toothless's wings wrapped safely around them.

oOo

Morning was cold, grey and foggy and Astrid felt Hiccup move as he tried to prise himself free of her embrace. Her eyes fluttered open to see him sitting painfully, his battered face pale and guarded. She pulled herself up on her elbows and offered a slight smile to him. "Morning," she said gently. He flinched.

"You should go home," he said, looking away. She sat up.

"You are the most stubborn, bone-headed, stupid…" she began and he sighed.

"Astrid, I only want to protect you," he sighed. "You heard me last night. There is no future for us. I don't want you to throw everything away for me. I'm not worth it." She scrambled to her knees and watched him change his skinny and battered shape into an older green tunic. She winced at his bruises and he hissed in pain as he moved.

"Hiccup, I came after you of my own free will," she said insistently. "I…care for you. You are my best friend. And I hate to see you like this…" He looked up, his eyes angry.

"Like what?" he asked roughly. "Weak? Beaten? Pathetic? Ruined?"

"Alone," she said quietly. "Wounded. Struggling." He flinched.

"I'll manage," he told her stiffly. "I meant it. Astrid-I want you to go home." He achingly grabbed his cloak and wrapped it around his skinny shape. "I've got work." She scrambled to her feet.

"Hey!" she said and took a step after him. "You're working?" He stopped and took an angry breath.

"I can't just walk up to the Great Hall and get some food here," he said shortly. "Not that I really could back on Berk in the end. I need to work to get food." He took a shuddering breath. "I can be someone else there. I work in the forge, I don't have to listen to people sneering names at me or pitying me. I can leave at the end of the day and come back to Toothless and feel safe." He lifted his chin, still looking away from her. "I want you to go."

She watched him walk down the slope, his small limping shape quickly vanishing among the brush and trees and then she chewed her lip thoughtfully. He was angry but her mind rewound to the screaming, pleading boy last night and she realised she had got her closest impression of what he had endured in that horrible nightmare. There was no way she would leave him while he was still suffering. But she did need to let her dragon rest: Stormfly had flown and tracked without complaint for over two weeks and Astrid knew her faithful friend was exhausted.

She stared round the little cave: it was nicely concealed in the forested hills just to the south of the town walls and far enough from the Port that it was not common knowledge. Toothless had curled up and gone back to sleep and Astrid walked up to him and gently stroked his head. The dragon cracked an eye open a sliver and gave a little rumble of acknowledgement, then went back to sleep. She inspected his injured leg and saw the bandages were still clean: he would heal well. The injured Terror was still asleep and she tucked him against the Night Fury, who rumbled in approval and didn't even open an eye at the bedmate. Then she gave her dragon the last of the dried fish and ordered the Nadder to stay in the cave with the Night Fury. She stroked her dragon gently and gave her a hug. She knew she couldn't take Stormfly into the town and the encounter with the Dragon Trappers had warned her that this place wasn't dragon friendly-or safe.

After a quick wash in the stream and a careful rebraiding of her hair, she returned to the cave with her mind made up: she needed to explore. After a long moment, she reluctantly laid her axe aside and concealed it by her dragon. She wasn't sure how well it would go down in a Port and decided to just take a couple of concealed knives. Astrid was a trained Viking Warrior and hated leaving her primary weapon but she didn't want to attract attention to herself when she was reconnoitring the settlement. Then she pulled on her cloak and fur hood and strode down the hill towards the town. She needed food for herself, fish for the dragons and to find Hiccup.

She never lacked confidence and as she strode through the crowded streets, she found that people veered from her path: her grim expression and purposeful movements made her appear intimidating and the peaceable inhabitants wanted to avoid conflict. Her feet took her down to the docks and she stared up at the ships moored. Berk's fleet wasn't large but it was sturdy and she was amazed at the variety of shapes, sizes and styles of ships moored. Traders shouted their wares or unloaded their holds: fishermen dragged baskets of fish ashore and bartered for the best prices and a war-longship was moored with a crew ashore, enjoying liberty.

But the largest boat was the strangest, the hull a strange shape and deck an unusual configuration. There was a large cabin at the stern and cages were visible on the deck and Astrid could hear the pathetic howls and roars of distressed dragons. It was the Trappers' ship and she stared as a man came striding down the gangplank. Fortunately, it wasn't one of the men from the previous night and he simply cast her an appreciative smirk then carried on along her way. She bunched her fists: on Berk, everyone knew her worth as a warrior but here, she was just another anonymous young woman and she would be judged solely on what was seen. She turned away.

As she walked down the docks, she paused by fisherman and eyed a basket of fish. Then she felt in her pouch: she had a few coins as well and she spiritedly bartered for the fish, paid as little as she could manage and hefted the basket onto her shoulders before taking it back to the cave. It was mid-morning before she returned and the dragons were still sleeping. She sighed, then woke them up and fed them, before making a small fire and cooking a couple of the fish for herself and Hiccup when he returned.

She was concerned about the Terrible Terror: the little dragon was listless and had to be coaxed to take a few shreds of the raw fish. She even tried giving it some of her own cooked fish but it only sucked a few shreds before whining and curling up sadly. She felt her heart fill with pity for the damaged little creature and wrapped it warmly in her blanket before tucking him against Stormfly, certain her own dragon would care for the injured Terror. She stared across the little cave: cold, isolated and exposed. She knew why he chose to stay here with his dragon but she knew he shouldn't be alone. Down in the town, among so many strangers, she knew he was vulnerable and feared for his safety. She had to persuade him to let her stay and watch over him.

She ate her lunch and wrapped his cooked fish in a piece of sack-cloth, then headed down to the town once more, seeking Hiccup. This time, she wouldn't be taking no for an answer. Astrid Hofferon wasn't giving up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yes, I know any normal person wouldn't punch someone they had been looking for, especially after all Hiccup has been through but this is Astrid Hofferson. She's a Viking and has longstanding anger issues. She's had her dragon drugged from under her and her best friend run away when she was determined to go with him. She's been flying around the intricate trail Hiccup left for two weeks and she's been getting more and more pissed off all the time. Violence was always going to happen. What comes of it is another matter...


	28. You are an escaped slave

In the forge, Hiccup was quiet and withdrawn, working deftly but stiffly. He was having difficulty processing everything that had happened: his violent and terrifying encounter with the Trapper on the ship, his discovery of the Dragon Arena and the games where dragons were killed for sport. He shivered recalling the anxiety as he freed the dragons and the sense of achievement he had garnered from letting them fly away. And the fear as they had been hunted and he had been caught. He stopped: he felt his stomach turn at the irony that the Trappers had caught and beaten him for supposedly attempting to rape Astrid when he was the one who had been brutally assaulted himself. He shuddered: he knew he could never harm anyone the way he had been so hurt.

Harald didn't comment on the bruises but the boy could tell his master was becoming suspicious. The girls hadn't brought any lunch and Hiccup felt his stomach ache with emptiness as well as with depression that his slips the previous day had made Harald suspect him as a danger to his daughters. His stomach rumbled: he hadn't eaten anything in the morning or the previous night and he was starting to feel sick with hunger but he forced himself to pound away at the hammer he was making, the clangs loud in the forge. Sweat dripped from his face and he had to pause, feeling dizzy. Suddenly, Harald grabbed his shoulder as he swayed and sat the boy down on a stool, his head between his knees.

"Take a break, Valkan," he said sternly as the boy resisted. Hiccup struggled desperately, feeling as if he was being pinned down. He was beginning to hyperventilate and he managed to push Harald's hands off him, sitting up and backing away.

"I-I'm good," he panted, his eyes wide with fear. "I just-just skipped breakfast." Harald stared at him and realised his decision to keep his daughters away from the unsettling apprentice had robbed him of his midday meal. He sighed, then turned to his own meal, packed by the girls before he had come to work and tore the bread in half, handing it to the trembling boy.

"Eat, lad," he said gruffly. "You look half-starved." Hiccup's cheeks flared with embarrassment and he warily accepted the food.

"Thanks," he managed and bit urgently into the bread. It was gritty and fairly tasteless but he was ravenous and it helped fill his aching stomach. Harald stared at him.

"You'd feel less dizzy if you took your tunic off, lad," he suggested, staring at the bright red and sweaty face. Hiccup looked alarmed.

"I-I'm good," he mumbled, chewing.

"You never even roll up your sleeves," Harald noted. Hiccup flinched.

"I…erm…get really self-conscious," he muttered unconvincingly. "I was teased all through my life for being the runt…And I don't feel the heat really…" Harald scowled: the boy was a poor liar.

"Valkan-what are you hiding?" he demanded. Hiccup hunched up and his green eyes widened in anxiety but then a voice sounded at the hatch. Hiccup's head snapped round in shock.

"Excuse me?" Harald gave the boy a 'this conversation isn't over' look that he had seen all too often from his father and turned to the customer: a beautiful young woman with sun-bright golden hair braided tightly, stunning azure eyes and a stern Viking expression. The smith came forward with a smile.

"Can I help?" he asked and she nodded.

"I am looking for someone," she admitted. "A boy my age. So high…" and she indicated Hiccup's height, "with dark red hair, green eyes, freckles, one leg and looking a bit the worse for wear." Harald frowned.

"Why are you looking for him?" he asked. She sighed.

"I'm worried for him," she admitted. "He's my friend and he ran away. He'd been badly treated and he left me behind…" Harald stared at her.

"You're the girl with the eyes," he said. "The one he bought the beads for!" She blinked and stared at him as if he had gone mad.

"Um…have you seen him?" she asked directly. "This is the fourth forge I've tried in the town and I'm not sure where else I can try…" Harald nodded and beckoned her forward, leading her to the back where Hiccup was sitting warily, his eyes resigned.

"Hi, Astrid," he said heavily. "Why are you here?" She folded her arms.

"Let me think…" she said sharply, "looking for my best friend? You went off without any breakfast and you look dreadful…" He sighed.

"You know what I want," he said tonelessly.

"Never gonna happen," she shot back. "Hiccup, I'm not leaving you." Harald stared at him.

"Valkan? Why is she calling you 'Hiccup'?" he asked suspiciously. Astrid started at the unfamiliar name and quickly picked up on Hiccup's deception. She forced herself to sigh as if in embarrassment.

"It's his childhood nickname," she explained. "He doesn't really like it but I've always used it. I've never really used his given name." Hiccup shrugged, staring at the floor in concern. Harald was already suspicious of his story and Astrid's arrival added further inconsistencies. She stared at Hiccup and frowned. "Beads?" He blushed scarlet.

"Forget it," he said in a low voice. "I was temporarily insane in imagining I could send you a gift as an apology. I wasn't expecting you to find me and hit me." The last two words were biting. She leaned closer, forcing herself to remain calm. He was lashing out because he was scared and hurt and she knew she hadn't helped but she wanted to help now. She needed him to realise she couldn't be pushed away just because he believed he was worthless.

"I've fed Tooth and Stormy," she murmured gently. "I guess I need work as well if I am to feed myself. My girl's too tired to head home straight away…" He sighed and swallowed. He was still furiously inspecting the floor.

"I can barely make enough to feed Toothless and I," he whispered back. His voice was hopeless now. "I'm just not good enough to take care of you as well…" He sighed. "I'm sorry, Astrid…"

oh Astrid, I'm so sorry…I couldn't stop him, I let you down…you deserve so much better that this…I'm so sorry…

"I heard last night," she told him gently. "No one else is good enough for me. I want and deserve the boy I love: I want you. No one else. You never let me down: you never did anything wrong. And you are mine. I'm not letting you go! I didn't give up when he had you and I'm not giving up now. Not even when you ran off and made me chase you for two weeks!" She carefully took his hand and he didn't pull away, to Harald's surprise. Slowly, his ashamed green eyes flicked up.

"You won't get a peaceful night's sleep with me," he warned her quietly.

"I've spent most of my life not getting a peaceful night's sleep, what with all those raids," she reminded him. "You are worth it. Don't put yourself down. We'll get through this together-no matter how long it takes…" She leaned forward and gently stared into his eyes. He bowed his head.

"You should go home," he repeated. "Your family will miss you." She gave a slight smile.

"My father didn't want me to come," she murmured. "He doesn't want me to have anything to do with you now. But I'm not going back. I'm not leaving you now I've found you." He abruptly put both hands on her shoulders and stared deep into her eyes.

"Not for me," he murmured. "Go back before it's too late, Astrid. You don't want this." She leaned her head against his and sighed.

"I want you, Hiccup," she murmured. "And I will do whatever I need to keep you and help you recover." He said nothing, just leaning against her for a long moment.

"You should see Gothi. I'm sure she has something to cure insanity," he grumbled mildly and she felt a weight lift off her chest: he had forgiven her. She pulled back, then kissed him quickly on the cheek.

"Don't wanna be cured," she smiled. "And that's for…being you." He looked up.

"No punch?" he asked her warily.

"I think you've got enough credit from last night for a bit longer," she murmured and though he stiffened slightly, he then gave a small nod. "Just-no more running!" He slowly got to his feet.

"I gotta work," he reminded her and then she handed him the rough parcel she had brought. He inspected it and found a lightly roasted fish. He stared at her. "Wh-what?"

"Lunch?" she suggested and shrugged. "But don't expect this to be a regular thing!" she added shortly. Astrid Hofferson doesn't do cooking! He stared again and then smiled.

"Um, thanks?" he said uncertainly. Then he looked to Harald and offered the fish. "Do you...?" he asked but the man gave him a wink.

"I'm not going to steal part of the lunch your girlfriend has brought for you, Valkan," he said and gave a grin. "Don't take too long!" He darted to the front of the forge and left them alone. Hiccup cautiously broke a piece of roasted fish off and took a wary bite: Astrid was an excellent warrior but an appalling cook. In fact, his stomach still lurched at the memory of her yak nog. She stared at him and sighed.

"I really am sorry," she said gently. He chewed: it was dry but not too bad, considering.

"So am I," he sighed. "It's not that I didn't want you here with me, because I really really did, but I feared that you would end up shamed as I am shamed because of running away with me." He sighed again. "I really don't know who I am anymore."

"Well, Valkan, I think you are who you always were," she said thoughtfully. and took his hand again "What happens to you hasn't changed who you are inside. It just changes the names people call you-unfairly-and what you believe you are." She stared into his eyes. "I know that under those bruises and scars, the same stubborn, shy, clumsy, brilliant, brave boy is hiding. I know he's scared and wounded and totally lacking in confidence but I also know what you did yesterday was stupidly brave and risky and that's the Hiccup I know!"

He ghosted the faintest hint of a smile and his grip in her hand tightened. "Yeah-he's a complete idiot!" he muttered and she smiled as he took another bite of his fish. The thought meant a lot to him and he was willing to hazard her cooking if it made her happy. Finally, she rose to her feet from the crouch she had settled in.

"Do you know if there is any work around for me?" she murmured. He sighed.

"I'm not sure," he sighed. "I only looked at forges, to be honest. I am sure there is something you can do but I don't know what..." Please not a cook. Or a seamstress. Oh Thor...

"VALKAN!" Harald called, poking his head into the back room. There were a couple of townsmen, excitedly chattering to him about some item of news. "Have you heard? Someone has stolen the dragons from the Arena!" Hiccup started and his eyes widened. Had he been seen?

"Who...how...?" he asked, acting shocked.

"The guard saw a shadowy figure in a cloak flying away in a black dragon!" the smith scoffed. "Too many meads on duty, I think!" Hiccup stole a worried look at Astrid but she was staring at the men in concern.

"Are you okay?" she whispered. He gave a small nod.

"Fortunately, it was foggy and all they saw was a shape in a cloak with a scarf over his face," he murmured.

"Fortunately, the Trappers had more in their hold so the games can still go ahead-you haven't forgotten I promised to take you?" Hiccup shook his head dazedly, his stomach clutching in horror. "Maybe your Astrid can come with my girls and we can make an outing of it!" Hiccup had paled and he looked up at Astrid but her expression was very neutral.

"I would be honoured, sir," she said respectfully, though he could feel her grip tightening ferociously. "I'll see you later, Valkan. I'll be back at sunset?" He nodded, in a daze as she walked confidently off into the teeming streets. But he felt hollow, empty. He had achieved nothing. Dragons would still be killed here for sport, the trappers would continue their horrific trade and he had got Toothless injured!

"She's an impressive girl," Harald said, still fiddling with the sword he was repairing. "I can see why you wanted to remember her." Hiccup nodded.

"I have loved her since I was about five," he murmured softly. "She was the only girl I ever imagined…anything with." He stared in the direction she had headed and sighed. "But she is too good for me now." And he reached over to grab the hammer he was working on as Harald turned back to inspect the boy, his interested piqued by the despondent tone. Hiccup's sleeve caught and Harald started as the material was dragged up the skinny limb to the elbow.

"What's that?" he snapped, grabbing Hiccup's wrist. The boy stiffened, afraid of being touched and worse as the man shoved the sleeve up beyond his elbow and peered at the runes sliced deep into his white skin, the scars still dark red and newly healed.

The word SLAVE was carved into his arm. He swallowed and felt himself begin to tremble.

"Someone's idea of a joke," he said quietly, trying to pull his arm free, but Harald tightened his grip painfully on the wrist and jerked the boy forward. "Please, Harald-it means nothing…"

"I knew there was something off with you!" he snarled and grabbed Hiccup's tunic, pulling it up to his neck. The boy struggled desperately as the men still standing to be served at the hatch gasped at his whip scars but Harald didn't hear them as he stared in shock at the horrific brand in the boy's shoulder-fresh and red enough to scream escaped slave. The boy was shaking his head desperately.

"It's not what you think," he begged, trying to squirm away. "Please-I was freed by Stoick the Vast of Berk…" He gulped. "I am a free man!"

"This is a Berserker brand," Harald said with scorn. "You are an escaped slave." Hiccup shook his head wildly. He felt tears of fear prick his eyes.

"No!" he begged. "Please-let me go!"

But Harald's only answer was a heavy blow to the back of the head that dumped him to the floor, unconscious.


	29. Thrown to the dragons

He woke in a cage, his head pounding with pain and cold. They had put his tunic back on but his vest and cloak were gone and he was lying on the cold floor. Painfully, he shifted and slowly scrambled to his knees.

"We don't like escaped slaves!" a voice sneered. It was a guard, a particularly scruffy and fat one who was eyeing the boy unsettlingly. Hiccup wondered if casual abuse of the prisoners was one of the perks of the job.

"I'm not a slave," Hiccup protested, wincing as he rubbed the back of his head. He wondered what Harald had hit him with: he'd left an impressive lump. "I was bought and freed by Stoick the Vast of Berk in front of witnesses from Dagur the Deranged of Berserk. Please-I am a free man!" The guard belched and took another long pull from his jar.

"Save it for the Merchant Prince!" he slobbered and reached for a steaming plate of boar in gravy. Hiccup watched him in dismay. He was starving, cold, imprisoned and afraid. He had no clue if Astrid knew what was going to happen to him or not.

"Then take me to him!" he asked suddenly. The cage was starting to play havoc with his nerves and his stomach was knotting fiercely with anxiety. The guard lurched forward, his meaty hand grabbing Hiccup's tunic and slamming the boy forward-hard-into the bars. He released him and Hiccup collapsed to the floor, his hand pressing to his forehead, which had taken the brunt of the impact.

"He'll be here soon enough," the guard sneered and sat back down, filling his mouth with food once more. Hiccup stared up at him in despair and curled up in a small ball, burying his face in his knees and praying Astrid would find him.

oOo

She arrived back at the forge a little before sunset, her face flushed with the cold air. She had managed to secure a position in a bakery, helping carry sacks of flour and knead the dough. Nothing skilled but she had indicated she was a hard worker and willing to learn and that had earned her the job. Now, flushed with success, she was hoping that Hiccup would be more cheerful.

She scanned the little forge as she arrived and saw only Harald, slamming his hammer angrily on an axe. She frowned and leaned through the window.

"Excuse me? Is he in the back?" she asked. Harald looked up and scowled angrily at her. Abruptly he turned away and stormed into the back, returning with Hiccup's fur vest and cloak. He literally threw them at her and she caught them, frowning.

"Did you know?" he accused her. She looked confused.

"What?"

"DID YOU KNOW?" She blinked. "That he was a slave?" Her eyes widened and she felt her heart lurch in shock and horror.

"He's not a slave!" she said firmly. "He was bought and freed by Stoick the Vast of Berk. He was kidnapped and enslaved by Dagur who treated him horribly. And he needed to get away to find himself. He ran away because he was struggling so hard with all his ordeals and I have been searching for him ever since because I love him." She didn't even realise she had said the words but Harald's eyes widened at the simple statement.

"He's branded-fresh, if I am any judge-and he's been acting shifty. Twitchy."

"Hiccup's always twitchy," she sighed. "He was treated badly and bullied as a boy because he was smaller than the others his age. He's never had much confidence but now…he flinches when someone touches him. He's a decent, kind young man: he's no threat to anyone."

"The law says he's a slave unless he can prove he was freed," Harald told her and she glared at him.

"Where is he?" she demanded. He gave her a smug look.

"He's in the town cells, in the Arena," he revealed. "They'll either try to return him to his master or, if they really can't be bothered, they'll just feed him to the dragons!" She vaulted over the counter and grabbed the nearest weapon, digging the freshly-sharpened edge hard into the smith's throat.

"You better hope he's not hurt, or I will come back and chop you into mince!" she hissed. "That's my friend and he deserves better." She paused and dug the edge even harder in. "Now hand over his pay. I don't believe you've paid him properly. He's a skilled smith: but he can barely feed himself on your wages." She drove him back to his backroom and took the handful of coins he shakily offered. Then she leaned closer to him. "Remember-one single word to anyone and I'll be back. And I won't be alone!"

She had vaulted over the counter, taking the new axe with her and sprinted into the deepening gloom before he could even catch his breath. Her eyes were only on the masts of the docks-and beyond them, the Arena-and Hiccup.

oOo

He looked up as the door creaked open and a richly dressed man lumbered in, his portly middle emphasised by a thick leather belt, his rich blue tunic familiar from the previous night where he had freed the dragons. It was the Merchant-apparently, the Chief Merchant or 'Merchant Prince'-and he had come to Hiccup. Wearily, he raised his wary green eyes and stared up at the man.

"He hardly looks like much," he commented. "How old are you boy? Twelve? Thirteen?"

"Fifteen," Hiccup said softly. "I'm not a slave-this is a mistake."

"Dagur the Deranged has put a reward out for you," the Merchant sneered. "And he describes you as an escaped slave. The description was very accurate."

"Dagur took an handful of gold from Stoick the Vast of Berk for me in front of witnesses," Hiccup argued. "Which man do you think is more reliable?"

"Neither-both are barbarians!" the Merchant sneered. "But Dagur has offered your weight in silver."

"You should contact Stoick," Hiccup told him breathlessly, praying he would at least believe him. "If I am a slave, if I am his slave, you should offer him the chance to get me back. And he will tell you I am free." Even if it means I am dragged back to Berk, I can't be handed over to Dagur. Dear Thor, please kill me before that happens!

"Berk is a long way away," the Merchant scoffed.

"Outcast Island is further-and that is where Dagur is with his Armada," Hiccup retorted. "Where I was-before Stoick freed me."

"Oh, you are persistent," the Merchant scorned and looked at the boy closely, seeing the sparkle in his bright green eyes, the determination in his battered face and the conviction in his voice. "And I can see why Dagur wants you, little one. He wants your body." He leaned closer. "I guess he's already enjoyed it many times, hasn't he, pet?" Hiccup swallowed and flushed scarlet. "Do you think he minds sharing?"

"Yes." Hiccup said softly. "How much do you want that money? He'll pay far less if I've been spoiled for him…" The Merchant stroked his face.

"It's a very generous price," he murmured. "For a little lying rat."

"But I'll bet you need all of that," Hiccup shot back, unable to stop himself in his anger at being disbelieved and condemned to slavery when he knew he was free. He knew now the man wouldn't listen to him. He had one last tactic left and it was very risky. "To pay Ryker and Viggo for those dragons you lost!" The Merchant suddenly glared at him, his eyes scanning the boy as if for the first time.

"Now how did you know that, unless you were hiding at the Arena?" he hissed, fisting the boy's hair and jerking him to his feet. Hiccup gasped in sudden shock and tried to prise the hands from his hair. Panic gripped his chest tightly and it became almost impossible to breathe.

"I was just seeing the dragons," he gasped. The Merchant narrowed his eyes and inspected him.

"Or freeing them?" he accused. "Ryker said he saw a red-haired boy on his ship the day before his dragons were stolen. You?" Hiccup swallowed but his sudden blanching and wide eyes gave him away. The Merchant threw him backwards and his eyes narrowed. "I can't afford to anger the Grimborn brothers so I have drained my personal reserves to pay the debt." He glared down on the boy. "You like dragons so much, boy-let's see how they like you!"

He turned and rapped on the bars, glaring at the guard. "Prepare him. We're feeding him to the dragons!"

oOo

Astrid made the Arena as people began to swarm in for the games, a swirling tide of warm bodies that thronged into the stone arena with the barred roof and the stands at each side. She slid in with the joking fishermen and ducked aside, hugging the rough stone wall and looking for the cells. Her keen eyes spotted a narrow passage and the shapes of guards, slumped on stools, intermittently taking long pulls of stone jars of ale or mead.

Her grip tightened on her stolen axe. Astrid wasn't a person who feared guards-especially not the fat and slovenly specimens she had seen guarding the Arena-when she had a weapon in her hand and her eyes focussed on their every move. Slowly, she inched forward, every sense straining as she crept through the shadows. Every cage she passed seemed to contain some poor beaten or battered dragon, howling in mindless rage and fear. She flinched at the painful, pitiful sounds, understanding why Hiccup had felt the desperate need to free them.

Then she found an empty cage and saw a small cup of water placed in the corner-and she knew that Hiccup had been here. She turned and saw the guard, half-drunk and dozing. Furiously, she kicked him in the groin to wake him up, then slammed her axe against his throat. He gave a howl of pain and then froze, feeling the cold edge bite into his flesh. She leaned close, her azure eyes glittering with fury.

"Where's the boy?" she hissed. He gave a nasty smile.

"That slave?" he hissed. "He's being fed to the dragons for running!" He searched her face for horror, despair or shock but instead her beautiful features tilted into a small smile.

"Clever boy," she murmured and slammed the flat of her axe against his head, knocking him immediately unconscious. Then she turned the way he had looked: towards the Arena. Her head snapped up as she heard a roar and she started to run.

oOo

Hiccup was thrown to the floor of the Arena, his prosthesis slipping on a puddle of blood and dumping him on his face. He rolled over as he heard the creak of a cage being opened and the click of dragon claws on stone. He crab-crawled backwards as he heard a voice echo through the Arena.

"This slave-Valkan-escaped his master and helped the dragons escape the Arena. So he will be fed to the dragons as penalty for his crimes!" The Merchant sounded triumphant and the boy groaned inwardly but forced his concentration back to the moment and the enraged and flaming black and tan Monstrous Nightmare advancing steadily at him.

"It had to be a Monstrous Nightmare," he sighed as he stumbled to his feet. He backed off a pace, watching the dragon carefully and quietly lifting his hands. The dragon roared and he slowed his retreat, his eyes facing unthreateningly at the creature. He could peripherally hear the roar of the crowd, the slam of feet on boards and knives on stone. He took a slow breath: this was who he was in his heart.

I am the son of Stoick the Vast, a Viking of Berk. I am the Rider of Toothless and Head of the Dragon Training Academy. I ended the war with the dragons and trained a Night Fury. I can train this dragon…

He advanced slowly on the Monstrous Nightmare, breathing calmly. "Easy, big guy," he murmured softly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm not like these other people. Trust me. Easy, easy…I mean you no harm…"

His hand inched closer to the snout and the dragon slowed, his flame dying and a puzzled croon rose in his throat at the small shape that smelled of…Night Fury? He slowly moved his muzzle closer and closer to the outstretched hand…

Astrid elbowed her way through to the front row as the dragon pressed his muzzle to the boy's hand and the battered face moved into a little smile.

"Hey, big guy-wanna be my friend?" he murmured, resting his other hand against the hideous jaw and beginning to give the dragon a gentle rub. "Much better than being in a cage…"

"SORCERY!" The cry echoed through the Arena and Astrid's head snapped up. To the men and women of the Port, this would look like some exotic form of magic-but it was a magic born of knowledge, compassion and love that Hiccup had perfected with his saviour and best bud. Men surged to the front of the stands and a few began to leap into the Arena, ready to slay the accursed boy. But Astrid was quicker, vaulting the low stone wall into the Arena and brandishing her axe. She glanced over at Hiccup: the dragon was starting to alarm at the ruckus but this time, he had the situation under control, never relinquishing his contact with the beast and continuing his stream of gentle words and caresses. And under his touch, the Monstrous Nightmare remained docile and quiet, his pupils wide and calm.

Between him and the stands, Astrid slammed her axe into the first man who approached, knocking him senseless. The second ran at her and she threw him, a swift kick laying him out. She spun under a sword, her axe slamming up to block the blow and swinging round to take the legs from the man. Two more approached her with more care, seeing her eyes focussed like gimlets and axe held with expertise.

"Stay back," she rasped angrily. "Leave him alone!"

"He has to die!" the men growled and lunged at her but she was quicker, her protective instincts fully aroused. The blade swung round, carving through raised swords and flesh, the spray of hot blood and screams of the injured men causing the other attackers to back off a pace.

"Hiccup, if you have a plan to get out of here, now would be a great time for it," she breathed heavily, backing towards him. He looked up and smiled at her.

"I knew you would come," he said quietly, his relief evident. "Now get on. I think this guy wants to help us out!" He stroked the dragon again and the Nightmare lowered his head, inviting the boy on. He leapt up and then offered the girl his hand, helping her up behind him. His hands closed on the twisted horns of the dragon. "Okay, boy-shall we go?"

More men were approaching but the dragon lowered its head now and let out a ferocious growl. There was a general scramble for the stands and in the chaos, the dragon slammed the door to the Arena open and galloped out onto the street, then gave a single roar before leaping into the air. Astrid tightened her arms around Hiccup, sighing with relief.

"You didn't need me to rescue you, did you?" she asked. He nodded.

"They would have killed me before I could have established enough of a bond to fly this guy," he told her. "I needed you, Astrid. And thank the gods you came for me. If they had decided just to send me to Dagur, I would still be in the cell…"

"Dagur?" she breathed as they hovered above the Arena.

"He's put a reward out for me," he admitted in a shamed voice. "I think I'm a hunted man." She rolled her eyes.

"You really don't do things by halves, do you?" she told him, feeling him shiver with weariness. He shook his head.

"I've never seemed to," he sighed. "Let's head for the cave and pick up the dragons," he added wearily. "I think we've worn out our welcome…"

And as they banked across the harbour towards the distant shore, a brace of bolas and a weighted chain-metal net entangled them and they plummeted from the sky.


	30. I'm not letting you go

Hiccup felt Astrid's arms tighten around him and they both screamed, but he still determinedly dragged back on the Monstrous Nightmare's head and tried to pull them up. But there was too little sky left so they slammed hard into the deck of the ship and everything went black.

oOo

Hiccup felt hands shaking him hard and he moaned, writhing against the insistent pressure. Then his eyes snapped open and he cried out, cringing back and trying to curl up as small as he could make himself. All his feelings of vulnerability and fear came flooding back and he covered his head with his arms, steeling himself for a beating-or worse. And he was shaking like a leaf.

"Hiccup!"

It was Astrid's voice, anxious but steady and he managed to lower his arms and inspect her face: she was lightly bruised from the hard landing but unharmed otherwise.

"Are you okay?" she asked. He had to take a couple of breaths and then nodded.

"Where-where are we?" he asked hoarsely. She looked up and shrugged.

"I think we're on the Trappers' ship," she admitted. "These aren't the cells of the Arena and there are dragons in distress here." He looked up more curiously and realised they were in a cell on a ship below decks, the front wall onto the corridor comprising a large metal grille that was of the same strange metal that the cages on the deck were made of. He painfully crawled to the grille and peered through, seeing a central wooden corridor and cages on each side. He could hear a scared Gronckle and the desperate hisses of a Zippleback. He levered himself to his shaky feet and winced: he had bruised his back in the landing and his leg wasn't feeling too good either. He limped awkwardly.

"Oh Thor," he murmured as he heard steps close. "Astrid-I've been here before. They will recognise me. Don't let them recognise you. If you get a chance, get away!"

"I won't leave you!"

"I'm not planning on staying but I may not have a choice." His voice wavered. "This was my choice, Astrid. I came here to try to free the dragons. I was caught by their leader. I came back in disguise on Toothless and freed their dragons and they followed me. They almost caught me when I was escaping with Toothless. When you found me." His green eyes were filled with urgency.

"Hiccup-if they suspect you freed their dragons…"

"Then I have to take what I owe," he murmured bleakly. "Being a Viking is risky, Astrid. But-but it's my risk. I knew what I was doing because I needed to be me again. So when they come in, act as if you hate me. Act as if I kidnapped you. Act like you hate dragons. They may let you go. Please…"

"I-I can't watch them hurt you again," she said softly. He cast her a wistful look.

"Then close your eyes," he whispered as he saw shapes appear through the door at the end of the deck. He backed away, motioning Astrid to crouch down in the far corner, urging her to look as unfriendly as possible. He stared up as the door opened and the tall Trapper walked in, his cold dark eyes sweeping over the skinny, battered shape in recognition.

"YOU!" he snarled. Hiccup backed away again, his green eyes wide with fear. He was visibly trembling. "I heard the dragon had riders on it but you…" And he advanced rapidly on the boy, a large hand grabbing the tunic and hauling him off his feet. Hiccup's face paled in terror and he stared wordlessly at the big man. "COME WITH ME!"

And with that he dragged the shaking boy from the cell. The door clanged shut and Astrid stared at the retreating figures with sudden foreboding. She clutched her knees to her chest and then smiled: the men hadn't patted her down properly and she still had two hidden knives. Somehow, she would get out and free her friend.

Hiccup's mind had shut down in fear as he was dragged along the dark wooden corridor to a door and thrown through, his legs collapsing under him and dumping him onto the floor. He blinked and scrambled back, trying to get away from the advancing man. He hit against a desk and found himself trapped, breathing hard. He swallowed.

"What-what d-do you w-want?" he stammered. The man grabbed his hair and hauled him to his feet then shook him like a rat.

"You keep popping up too often for this to be a coincidence. What were you doing with that dragon?" he shouted. Hiccup trembled.

"They-they were throwing me to the dr-dragons to-to eat…and I s-saw someone train a dr-dragon…and then it-it grabbed us…" he stammered, blinking rapidly. The larger trapper eyed him calculatingly and then slapped him hard.

"How?" he shouted. "How did they train a dragon?"

"They-they touched it…" Hiccup stammered. "P-please I d-don't know any more…" He was slapped again and his lip began to bleed.

"Where did you see someone train this dragon?" the trapper snarled, raising his fist.

"On one of the islands…I-I can't r-remember which…" It earned him another hard slap from the Trapper.

"You were here before. Were you trying to train a dragon then?" he accused the boy. Hiccup shook his head urgently.

"I-I was curious," he admitted fearfully. "I just w-wanted to see them up close…"

"And then they wanted to feed you to a dragon?" the trapper sneered. His eyes hardened. Hiccup bowed his head, staring at the floor, shaking. He shook his head.

"It was a mistake," he murmured. But the Trapper had heard the rumours and the reward.

"You are the escaped slave!" he realised, his hands roaming over the boy's body and feeling the slave brand on his shoulder. He slid the sleeve up on his left arm and nodding as he saw the runes spelling out SLAVE. His expression grew even more cruel. "Does that pretty little girl you tried to rape know what kind of scum you truly are? How did you fool her into coming back for you? You must have something about you, boy, to impress her-or maybe she just is the dumb blonde type…" Hiccup felt his fists tighten in anger at the insult to Astrid. He shook his head.

"She doesn't trust me anymore," he said evenly, breathing hard. "She…"

"So where do you come from boy-and why does Dagur the Deranged of the Berserk Tribe want you so badly?" The tone was menacing.

"I-I don't know…" he whimpered. "I-I…" Then the trapper thought about what he had said. He gave a nasty smile and grabbed his face, peering closely at the frightened green eyes and then he smiled. He moved Hiccup's face side to side and nodded.

"Maybe I can see," he murmured and then gave a nasty grin. Hiccup went rigid and tried to pull away. "And maybe I could enjoy…or maybe I'll just claim the reward." He lifted his hand and slammed the boy to the deck. He hit hard and lay still, semi-conscious and terrified. He nodded and his crewman grabbed the boy from the floor. "Take the boy to the cage and set the girl free! I'll speak to him later…" he ordered, slamming the door to his office. The crewman carelessly dragged him back to his cage and threw him in. Hiccup hit with a groan. Then the man lunged forward and grabbed Astrid's arm and she started, resisting as she stole a look at Hiccup's shape, sprawled but stirring. She turned her attention back towards the man holding her and she paused, then fluttered her eyelashes.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked in a fairly sultry voice. The man paused and in that moment, a knife appeared in her free hand and dug hard into his neck. He gaped like a fish. "Keys," she insisted. He handed them over as she clubbed him senseless, catching him before he slammed into the deck. Then she flashed a triumphant grin and grabbed Hiccup. The boy stumbled up as she hauled him out of the cage and locked the guard in.

"Are you okay?" she asked him. He shook his head. "Come on," she murmured and he stumbled after her. She swiftly unlocked all the cage doors as they passed until they reached the stairs for the deck. Hiccup paused.

"I can't run particularly fast," he told her blearily.

"Can you swim?" she asked. He blinked and then nodded.

"Some. I used to be better without the metal leg. I sink more now. But it'll be better than staying here," he murmured. "I'm not planning on staying here any longer than I have to," he added as he stumbled after her. They made the deck and hunkered down, seeing the Monstrous Nightmare they had come on in the cage on deck but no guards at all. Hiccup frowned but on double-checking, there really wasn't a single guard on duty. Astrid pointed to the side and Hiccup limped towards the rail as stealthily as he could, while Astrid dashed to the cage and unlocked it, wrenching the door open and letting the dragon free. It flew off immediately as Astrid and Hiccup made it to the side and leapt over.

Hiccup sank, the cold water shocking his exhausted systems. But he kicked furiously and managed to make the surface. Astrid looked back for him and then they began to swim urgently along the line of the ships, hiding among the anchor chains and trailing small boats. Astrid grabbed Hiccup and helped him into a small craft and them hauled herself in beside him. They lay there, panting and trying not to shiver.

"I stashed your cloak and vest," she reassured him. "And I still have the back wages Harald owed you." He blinked. "I suggested he was underpaying you," she said sternly. He sighed.

"I would have taken whatever he offered because I was so desperate for anyone to employ me," he murmured. "I don't look like I could work at a forge at all. I guess I've been sacked now…" He shivered and wrapped his arms round his shivering body. Astrid patted him cautiously on the shoulder and he stiffened.

"You are a fantastic and skilled blacksmith," she assured him, then settled down and used an oar to push them silently round the far side of a longship and across to the docks. They reached a corner of the docks shielded by a scruffy longboat and scrambled onto the walkway. Hiccup sneezed and Astrid glanced at him anxiously. He was shivering and pale as she retrieved the cloak and vest from behind a remote mooring and wrapped them round him. Then she wrapped an arm around him and he leaned close to her, wanting to share body heat as the temperature dropped below freezing. The crowds had gone and the streets were quiet. The boy and girl walked swiftly through the town and to the walls, then headed out, back up the hill towards the cave. Hiccup leaned against her and sneezed again.

And then they both froze. There were shouts ahead and the sounds of weapons being drawn. Hiccup shared a horrified look with Astrid: they were facing an ambush.

"Thor-do they never give up?" Astrid muttered.

Hiccup shrank back and paused. Then he pulled the cloak off and handed it to Astrid. "Take this," he said despondently. "Go. I'll give them a target to chase…" But she gripped his wrist hard and glared at him.

"I am far faster and they can chase me while you get to Toothless!" she hissed. "I didn't come here to lose you!" He gulped and shivered again.

"Astrid…it's me they want…" he sighed, coughing. She wrapped the cloak tightly around him again.

"You mutton-head!" she scoffed. "No way are we allowing them to get their hands on you!" He frowned and pointed.

"Then we can trying going up the goat track," he murmured. A narrow track wound through the gorse and brambles and the two teens tried to sneak through as quietly as they could, the thorns scratching at their legs and arms. The way was dark and the mist curled eerily round them. But Hiccup kept sneezing and coughing and Astrid glanced fearfully over her shoulder as the sounds of feet came crashing closer. Hiccup doubled up, coughing-and then he cupped his mouth and threw his head back, letting out a Night Fury roar. Then he scrambled onwards, Astrid gripping her knives tightly. She was regretting losing the axe in the crash.

A bola sliced past them and they both turned, freezing, their eyes wide as they eyed the Dragon Trappers closed on them. The tall leader eyed Hiccup with a deeply menacing glare and the boy recoiled, curling inwards. Astrid gripped his wrist and allowed her strong fingers to caress his shivering hand. The man walked towards them and he gave a nasty smile.

A purple plasma blast almost hit him and the explosion tossed him aside, rolling through the gorse and brambles. The roar of a Night Fury echoed loudly and further blasts drove the Trappers back, slamming any man stupid enough to even raise a weapon. In the chaos created, Hiccup gamely tried to run up the track and Astrid almost dragged him along, keeping him low as the Trappers shouted 'Night Fury' and cast around for the dragon. But Toothless had already vanished into the mist, leaving them concussed, battered and confused. The young Vikings made it to the cave and collapsed in, shivering. Toothless scrambled back in by them and curled up around the shivering boy.

Astrid leapt into life, grabbing Hiccup and literally ripping the soaked tunic from his body. He flinched and stiffened, the associations of the motion too difficult to cope with. His skinny, scarred shape curled up and he automatically stared at the floor in shame. But immediately, she threw his other tunic at him: it was a little grimy and stained with blood but crucially, it was dry and she made sure he had dragged it on before he could chill further. Then she wrapped the vest and cloak tightly around his skinny shape and pressed him hard against Toothless as they cringed back in the dark depths of the cave. Stormfly gave a little croak and she nuzzled her rider.

Astrid shushed her gently and quietly reached into her pack, finding a new tunic which she shifted swapped for her soaking one. A new set of leggings went on next and she swiftly wrapped herself in her sleeping fur, curling against her dragon and stroking her to keep her quiet. Hiccup gave a soft cough and Astrid shifted to snuggle close to the boy.

"I'd set a fire but they would see," she whispered. He nodded.

"Provided they don't catch us, we'll leave at dawn," he murmured, pressing his fist into his mouth to smother another cough. He snuggled against her harder. She could feel him breathing quickly and she wrapped her arms around him.

"Shared body heat," she murmured and he blushed a little, though he was flushed with fever as well. They could hear the Trappers crashing around down the slope, the sounds gradually receding.

"They all seem to know about me," Hiccup murmured harshly. "Dagur wants me back."

"That treacherous son of a half-troll," she swore. "He accepted the money from Chief Stoick-but he is still claiming you." She stared at him: the few stray beams of light showed his frightened eyes and she hugged him harder. "You're not alone now," she whispered. "He's looking for a lone boy, on the run. He's not looking for a brother and sister-or young husband and wife. Valkan and Astrid Hofferson?" He gave the quietest little chortle.

"You've found a way of marrying me even your father can't stop," he said with quiet mirth. She gave a smug smile he couldn't see but heard on her voice.

"I am not letting you go, Hiccup," she reminded him softly. "I chased across the Archipelago and I'm not leaving without my man." He shifted slightly against her: the Trappers had gone but he felt safe here, with Astrid and Toothless.

"Problem is, I don't think Dagur will either," he murmured.


	31. I will always come for you

They walked through the small trading post, close together but wary. Hiccup was sticking close to Astrid, his scrawny shape still wracked by coughs. Astrid had brewed him a mint tea before they had left the Port but it hadn't really helped his cough or bad chest. They inspected the stalls and looked for casual work. Hiccup, as usual, headed for the forge but the blacksmith politely explained he didn't need any help and the boy couldn't help feeling rejected. They managed a little menial work and earned enough for bread and some fish but they could tell he little outpost wasn't really welcoming. They moved on.

The dragons didn't seem to mind the wandering lifestyle-as long as they were fed, fussed and flown. They were adept at sleeping curled up out of sight during the day and understood the need to stay away from strangers. The little terrible terror Hiccup had rescued did survive, though he was rather timid for a Terror and stuck to his saddle-bag nest unless Hiccup called him. The boy automatically began to train him and had named him Fang because the little dragon would bite at anything that came near him-except Hiccup.

The next small village was much the same-wary of the outsider, though this time, Hiccup did manage to get some work at the local forge. Astrid was able to also help at the village kitchens, curing fish and preparing the stew to feed the village. The two outsiders-posing as a young couple-gratefully accepted food and the offer of a bed for the night. There were some comments as they went for a walk together along the shore about 'young love' but the two managed to visit their dragons unseen and snuggled together in a stable in the village under a borrowed blanket. Hiccup curled up tight, worried that he was ruining Astrid's reputation and chances with a future suitor. But the simple fact was that if they pretended to be a couple-they both agreed brother and sister simply wasn't plausible-they would have to appear to sleep together.

There was another reason why Hiccup felt guilt for sleeping against Astrid: his nightmares. They hadn't lessened or improved in any way since her return and every night was fractured by him screaming and pleading with his unseen tormentors to spare him the horrific tortures he had already endured. But most pitiful-and which more and more brought tears to her eyes-were the pathetic whispered apologies to Astrid herself, suing for her forgiveness for being ruined by Dagur's abuse. The more she thought about his situation, the sadder it made her, because it was clear that Hiccup did not deserve any of the pain he had suffered and that he had hoped and dreamed of her for years-and he was now convinced that it was a lost cause. Astrid, though, wasn't so sure. Because she found that every time he was terrified by his nightmares-even when he woke and was ashamed and fighting tears of misery-he calmed in her arms and clung to her for comfort. And when she snuggled against him, he calmed and slept peacefully.

They had been in the village for three days when a routine packet boat came in from the main Port-and with it, messages for the village Chief. And once they had been read, the teens became increasingly aware of suspicious looks at them-especially Hiccup. He retreated to the back of the forge and sighed.

"They know," he told Astrid. "Dagur has sent out word-and a description of me-out with an offer of my weight in silver for my return to him." She gasped.

"Hiccup!" she whispered. "If it's got here…"

"Then I doubt anywhere will be safe for long!" he sighed. "I mean, here is pretty remote…" And then they stopped as the blacksmith walked in on them and stared at them.

"You're him," he said quietly. Hiccup stared at him.

"Um…little help please?" he asked. The smith stared at him.

"The escaped slave," he said in an accusing tone. Hiccup sagged.

"No!" he said definitely. "I was bought by Stoick the Vast of Berk and freed. I did NOT escape."

"Dagur the Deranged of Berserk claims you are his and is offering a generous reward for your return…" the smith told him.

"And you are going to collect?" Hiccup asked him wearily. The smith grasped his arm.

"No," he said quietly, "but others are. You have to leave." Hiccup offered a wan smile.

"Thanks," he said sorrowfully. The smith shrugged and pressed a few coins into his hand.

"You seem like a decent lad and you're a skilled and hard worker," he admitted. "And I don't hold with slavery, me."

"Me too," Hiccup added, clasped the man's hand and grabbed his cloak. Then he and Astrid sneaked out the back of the forge and made a run for their dragons. They barely took off before an armed party of villagers reached their hiding place looking to collect the reward. Hiccup glanced over his shoulder at the torches and sighed. "This doesn't look good," he muttered.

The pattern persisted for the next couple of weeks-never able to stay longer than a couple of says before the news reached where they were hiding, always running. They worked hard, posing as a young couple with no Tribe or family, always pleasant and decent and they always ended run out of town with a few coins and a further blow to their hopes of managing to spend anywhere in peace to recover and take stock.

Finally, Hiccup realised there was no hope of settling in any civilised area because the offer of a lot of silver was very persuasive. He sighed as he stared into the little fire and poked it with a stick as Astrid roasted a couple of fish over the fire. She looked at him worriedly. He did tend to brood and plan but his plans had all gone awry recently because Dagur had acted more quickly and ruthlessly than he had anticipated. And he only had two options: to continue further and further from the sea, where the dragons would be harder to conceal and feed-or return to the Archipelago and go into hiding there until he had sorted his head out.

"What's wrong?" Astrid asked him gently, handing him a well-roasted mackerel and a hunk of fresh bread. He sighed and folded the fish in the bread.

"If we go much further inland, there will be nowhere to hide the dragons and no chance that we won't be met with the same response," he told her, taking a bite.

"The people of the mainland won't be bothered what the Chief of a small tribe wants from way over in the Archipelago!" she told him but he waved his fish at her.

"Don't be too sure!" he told her in a depressed voice. "I may only weigh about ninety pounds but the offer of ninety pounds of silver for me is pretty serious. I'm surprised that there aren't bounty hunters out after us." She started: it was a horrible thought. The escape from the Dragon Trappers had been fraught enough but to think that there could be other people chasing after them…

"How would they find us, Hiccup?" she asked. He sighed.

"Wouldn't be hard to track all those villages we've been chased out of," he shrugged. "Especially that last one-they nearly got us…"

The last village had been scary and there had been no warning. Hiccup had been working in the forge, mending a ploughshare that had become twisted after hitting a rock. It was an unfamiliar task because the majority of his experience had been on weapons. So he had been concentrating a little harder and that had dulled his situational awareness-so he hadn't been alert to the three men creeping up on him-until the last minute. Terrified, he had lashed out with the plough and had caught one across the chest. The would-be captor had fallen back, bleeding profusely while the other two had grabbed at him, one catching his cheek with a punch that had him staggering back. But Hiccup had ducked away, his small size making up for his lack of legs and he had squirmed through the detritus at the back of the forge before they could stop him, racing away with no money and down one cloak. But with his life…

"Yeah, I think you're right," Astrid admitted. "That was far too close for comfort." He broke the fish into pieces, picking out bones absently.

"I don't think the mainland is an option," he said dully.

"Then where?" she asked him. He took a small bite of bread and chewed.

"The islands," he sighed. "We can island hop, find an uninhabited one, maybe find one where Dagur's message hasn't got-or no one trusts him…" Astrid nodded in agreement. Berserkers weren't often trusted in the Archipelago because Dagur seemed to see Treaties as an optional consideration when he decided he wanted to kill someone or conquer something.

"You don't wanna go home?" she asked him. He shuddered.

"What's changed?" he asked despondently. "I'm still the boy that Dagur enslaved, raped, sold…" He closed his eyes. "Do you think anyone on Berk will call me anything different if we walk back in there now?" She sighed. Hooligans were stubborn, often stupid and had a herd mentality. But they had very long memories for any transgression.

"No," she sighed. "Forget I suggested it." He looked at her carefully.

"You can still go home," he reminded her softly. He hadn't mentioned her leaving for a few days though he did, on occasion, check she still wanted to stay with him. She never mentioned her home but he knew from the occasional time he caught her murmuring to Stormfly and staring out to sea that she missed her parents and her two younger brothers. He hated that she felt an obligation to stay when she really wanted to go home. She lifted her head and her blue eyes studied him closely.

"What did I tell you last time, Hiccup?" she asked him in a Schoolmistress voice. He rolled his eyes.

"That you were here because you cared for me, that you weren't going anywhere and if I kept on about it you would axe off my other foot," he said quickly. "But I'm pretty sure you didn't mean that last one…"

"Wanna bet?" she asked him, eyes glittering. He poked the fire again.

"Don't tell me you don't miss your brothers…or your Mom…or even the others…" he suggested.

"Snotlout? Ugh!"

"Fish? Ruff? Even…Tuff?" he suggested. She stared at the fire.

"Sometimes," she admitted. "And you? Don't you miss Gobber…or your Dad?" He gave a very lopsided smile.

"Of course," he told her simply. "He's my Dad. And I would give everything to make him proud. But I…I can't get over how he just believed I would try to harm him, try to kill him. It felt like everything I had done my entire life counted for nothing. " He shook his head. "I'm not ready to go back there just yet." She scooched closer and took his hand.

"Then I'm not either," she reassured him. "We're in this together, Hiccup. Partners." He managed a wan smile.

"Just don't tell your father, please? He'll literally have my head!"

They headed back towards the Archipelago, flying fast and high during the daytime and landing early, occasionally having Astrid sneak into a local village to buy supplies. Hiccup usually stayed away, knowing word of his value was out. He felt ashamed that he had to rely on Astrid so much but he was insanely grateful to her all the same. They flew high because dragons were rare on the mainland and few places had the catapults to shoot at them when flying high: in fact, most of the time, no one even paid them any mind.

They had stopped outside one of the first villages they had visited, a day's flight from the Port when disaster struck. Toothless swung round for a routine landing and the tail refused to move, stuck in the open position. Hiccup moved his foot frantically and then saw the ground coming up fast. He braced and threw his arms across his face.

"Look out…aaargh!" he managed as they slammed into a large holly bush.

It took Astrid a few minutes with Stormfly to fish them out, her axe used to slice away branches and free the limp boy and the stunned dragon. Toothless was apologetic and very worried about Hiccup-until the boy finally came round, his eyes fluttering and finally opening. He was badly scratched and scraped from the hard landing on a very prickly bush and there was a lump on his forehead the size of an egg. He winced, lifting his right hand gingerly and moving the wrist very cautiously. It was swollen but Astrid reckoned it was sprained, not broken. But his first thought was for his dragon.

"Toothless? Are you okay, bud?" he said in a wavering voice, wincing as he scrambled to his knees to hug the Night Fury. The dragon gave a small croon, miserably wafting his stuck tail in Hiccup's face. The boy crawled along and fiddled with the mechanism-until he realised the control rod had snapped. He sighed. "Not our best landing, bud-but not your fault. The control rod snapped. We gotta get a new one or we aren't going anywhere!"

"Don't you have a spare?" Astrid asked him, dabbing at his bleeding scratches with a wet rag. He shook his head.

"I was going to…but we never stayed long enough to get a chance," he sighed. She folded the rag and pressed it hard against the lump on his head and he gave a little sigh of relief and pain. "Thanks, Astrid," he murmured.

"We'll have to get you in and get it repaired," she murmured. "I think this is the village where the blacksmith, Egil, didn't hold with slavery. He may let you use the forge." He sighed.

"They do know about it here," he reminded her.

"It's either that or walk back to the Archipelago," she told him tartly and he winced.

"See if he will help," he said. "I'll wait outside town." She smiled and wrapped her cloak around him, pressing a small kiss on his cheek.

"Don't you worry, Hiccup," she said. "I'll persuade him.." He sighed.

"No axes," he murmured. "And take the control rod. If we let him see what we need, he may be more amenable…" She nodded and took the precious piece of metal. They walked into town and Hiccup hunkered down just beyond the village, not that far from the forge. He could smell the smoke, the hot iron, the warm leather and he smiled, curled up as waited. He missed working in a blacksmith's, the challenge of working the metal, the pleasure of using his skills, the joy of creating something solid and tangible. It made him feel useful.

He stiffened at the sound of a twig cracking, a footstep too close and unfamiliar…because he knew Astrid's steps. He tried to shrink back behind his cover-but a couple of large men round the tree he was sheltering behind and their expressions were cruel.

"There he is!" the shorter, squatter man said. "Thought he wouldn't be far when we saw the blonde girl in the village."

"Please, I mean no harm," Hiccup said, scrambling up and trying to back away, but a large hand clamped on his sprained wrist and he yelped as he was jerked close to the taller, leaner man with really bad body odour and a thick dark stubble on his lined face.

"Yer an escaped slave so yer have no rights!" the man breathed into his ear, almost making Hiccup gag. His hands clamped tight on the boy's other wrist. "We'll get yer tied up tight and then we'll take yer back to yer owner."

"Let me go!" Hiccup protested, writhing and kicking but he was hauled away, still struggling. He was hauled into town, fighting all the way. "Get off me! I am a free man!"

"Yer an escaped slave and yer master has offered a very generous purse for yer return, boy!" the squat man sneered. "And we're gonna collect!" They hauled him into a small shop and they roped him up tightly, his hands painfully tied behind his back and then they threw him to the floor. The door slammed shut and they walked away to hire a boat for the journey. Hiccup lay on the floor: stunned and shocked. The memories of being bound, of being manhandled and being locked up were all playing havoc with his self-control and he found he was shaking. He forced himself to struggle to his knees and slow his breathing, then looked around. He was in a weaver's shop, two looms set up and bales of carded wool and skeins of wool stacked to one side. Bales of folded material were on a table to the other side of the shop. There were some scissors and knives to cutting the wool for the loom but they were out of his reach. He opted for the roughened frame of the door and slid down by it, beginning to rub the ropes around his wrists against the rough wood. He wasn't giving up.

"Hiccup!" He started: it was Astrid's voice.

"Astrid?" he hissed. "Where are you?"

"Outside, obviously," she whispered back. "Are you okay?"

"Well, tied up and imprisoned so normal for me," he said sarcastically. "You?"

"Outside trying to work out how to rescue you-normal for me!" she shot back.

"Have you got the control rod?" he asked. She nodded.

"Yeah…"

"Thank Thor. Could you ask Egil to repair it?" he asked. She smiled.

"He already has. That's why I was gone so long. He was worried about you coming into town because a few people have shown too much interest in you."

"I'm not sure if you can get me out?" He heard her move and the door rattled. His heart sank.

"Locked." He sagged.

"I've got nothing here," he admitted. "The only option is to bring…the others with all our stuff and leave from here. I don't think they'll leave before dark but don't take too long."

"You got it, babe," she called, her voice filled with forced cheerfulness. She didn't want him to hear her concern. But he could.

"And be careful," he said. "Any trouble and leave, promise?"

"I'll be back," she said, not promising anything. He sighed as he heard her move away and then he struggled back to his position and continued working on his ropes.

The light was definitely fading and his shoulders and arms were burning but the ropes were holding strong as he paused for a break. He was hungry, anxious and still imprisoned. His legs were cramped as well so he staggered to his feet, walking around the little shop and looking for any way out. And then he saw it: a curved blade, jammed into the wood. The edge was tricky to access but he manoeuvred himself and began rubbing the frayed ropes against the jagged edge until they finally parted.

He almost sighed in relief at being able to get his arms free and he tried to rub some life into them. Then he cast around: now he was free, he could try to get out of here. He peered behind one of the looms and saw a hole in the wall: not big and he would get muddy slithering through but it was better than staying. So he stuck his head through, checked no one was around-and then he wormed his way through, scrabbling up to his feet and pressing his body against the wall. He could hear footsteps approaching and then he ducked behind a water barrel. The two men were heading for his temporary prison so he waited until they had rounded the corner-then headed towards the smells of the forge-and the forest beyond.

The cry went up before he even reached the forge: 'HE'S GONE!" And then he put his head down and sprinted as best he could through the muddy streets, ducked under grasping hands and breaking through the line of the houses. He threw his head back, cupped his hands to his face and gave his very good version of a Night Fury roar. And then he ran on, sprinting past the place he had been captured-but steps were closing. He stole a look over his shoulder and almost tripped onto his face. his arms flailed and he slashed his hand on a bramble. Then he staggered on, his breath burning in his chest and heart pounding in fear.

A roar sounded ahead and he redoubled his pace. The familiar croaking cry of Stormfly echoed overhead but he could hear something large running towards him and he was really really hoping it wasn't a bear or a boar. But then the sleek and familiar black shape of Toothless bounded towards him and he almost sagged in relief-and then a hand snagged his collar and jerked him back. He squirmed and kicked back, breaking away-and then Toothless arrived, growling and swatting the men aside with his tail. A volley of spines drove the men back as the Deadly Nadder swooped overhead.

"I see you couldn't wait for me!" Astrid called down.

"Control rod?" he shouted and she tossed the vital piece of metal down. He ducked by Toothless's tail and swiftly fitted the mended rod, his fingers running along the metal and feeling an expert fix-as good as he could manage himself. He offered a silent prayer for good fortune for Egil the blacksmith as he clipped the rod into place and checked the prosthetic tail moved again. Then he flung himself into the saddle as the men gaped.

"This wasn't on the description!' the man with bad body odour shouted.

"What-did Dagur forget to mention I ride the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself?" Hiccup shouted sarcastically, leaning low over the Night Fury's neck. "Odd that. Still think capturing me is worth the money?"

"Hel, no!" the squat man said and dragged his friend back as Toothless growled louder to encourage them to rethink. They turned and ran and Hiccup sighed. He patted Toothless gently.

"Thanks, bud," he sighed and looked up at Astrid, who landed briefly. "They'll be back-with friends," he told her. "And word will get out that we're dragon riders."

"It's okay, Hiccup," she soothed him but he shook his head.

"No," he said tonelessly. "People are seeking me. They are willing to capture me. We can't stay any longer." He stared at the sky. "I guess it's time to go back to the Archipelago." He shifted in the saddle. "Thanks for coming to rescue me, Astrid," he told her.

"Hiccup-I will always come for you," she assured him as they took off. "Always."


	32. What I needed was more...Hiccup

The weather had definitely deteriorated by the time they had reached the Archipelago and they clung to the southern islands as much as they could-though they had to avoid the larger ones because Tribes such as the Meatheads, the Lava Louts and the Bashem Oiks would all have handed Hiccup over to Dagur without a second's hesitation. They visited only isolated villages, again playing the young married couple who were making their difficult way through the world. Hiccup was able to find more work at the forge or in the tanners while Astrid was willing to help wherever was necessary, her confident competence convincing everyone she was capable of turning her hand to anything…except cooking. Hiccup was a far better cook than she was, though he wouldn't ever dare tell her that her cooking was awful. Her yak nog still gave him nightmares and he had contracted food poisoning twice on the two occasions she had brought home-cooked food to the Academy.

They camped with the dragons and Fang proved to be a very good guard-dragon, chasing off two villagers who had recognised Hiccup from the description that had been sent round. Hiccup sighed as he heard himself described as 'short, red-hair, green eyes, one leg, scrawny, whipped back, Berserker slave tattoo'. Not that it was inaccurate but it was completely lacking in any characteristic that was desirable in a Viking. Astrid had giggled at the description which only made him feel worse, though she had squeezed his hand and reminded him that they had left out 'brave, clever and stubborn' all of which were pretty awesome.

As they worked their way through the more isolated isles, they began to hear rumours-not only that Dagur was searching for his lost slave and was offering the boy's weight in silver-but that the Berserker and Outcast fleets were preparing for war. And the target of their invasion-was Berk. The Berserkers were buying arms and provisions all over the Archipelago for the invasion and every mercenary available had volunteered for the trip. The other tribes were also circling, looking to pick clean any leftovers from the remnants of the Hooligans.

Hiccup had sat down with Astrid after they heard the third report of the same thing and had stared at the ground for a long time.

"We have to find out," he said quietly. "If Dagur is preparing an Armada that large, Berk will have no defence. There will only be four dragons-and neither you nor I to lead." She stared at him for a long moment.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" she asked him. He nodded and twisted his hands nervously together.

"We have to go to Outcast island," he murmured.

oOo

They flew cautiously up the Archipelago, leaving the somewhat warmer southern islands for the more inclement northerly chain. There were more uninhabited islands here, though a number had vanished or been shrink to tiny rocks: all the work of a certain giant dragon that Hiccup knew was still out there and knew was looking for something. They were careful to travel above the low cloud or at night because they didn't want to be seen. Dagur's offer would be more persuasive here and it would do them no good if they were accidentally captured by Berserkers on their way.

They stopped in a small village on the Peaceable Isles where Hiccup garnered some very funny looks and he knew the observers had received Dagur's decree. The two teens collected their shopping and walked out of the village-but they were aware of steps following them and as they turned, they saw three large men bearing down on them. Hiccup gulped and ran as Astrid turned-and ran at the bounty hunters.

It took Hiccup a breathless moment to realise the scream from behind him was further away and he turned to see Astrid attacking the first man, the other two looking with amusement before hauling her off, kicking.

"Get OFF me!" she raged.

"I don't think so!" the first said nastily. "I think we'll take your little friend and then we'll have a little fun with you, you feisty lass!"

"Ouch," Hiccup said, walking back towards them. "Calling her feisty. Bad mistake!" He was trembling and his stomach was doing flip-flops but he managed to keep his voice steady because Astrid was in trouble.

"You're him!" the second man-whose scarred face was twisted in astonishment.

"I get that a lot. Is it the nose?" Hiccup suggested with a small smile, his hand on the saddle bag slung over his shoulder.

"The escaped slave!" the third-a bulky, mean looking man with dark eyes and hair-spat. Hiccup sighed.

"No. Wrong. I was a slave but I was legally bought and freed by Stoick the Vast of Berk. Every heard of it-or him? Huge man, ferocious warrior, hates people not doing what he says…"

"Surrender, little runt, or we'll do yer girlfriend!" the first said, struggling with the thrashing Astrid.

"Run, Hiccup!" she shouted. "I can take care of myself!" He shook his head.

"I have no doubt," he sighed, his green eyes apologetic, "but I would never live with myself if I let you be hurt and I didn't do whatever I could to prevent it." She stared at him and sagged.

"That's my Hiccup," she sighed then looked at the men and her tone changed. "You're all in trouble now." The Bounty Hunters stared at her.

"Er-sorry?" the second man asked her, his voice suspicious. "There's three of us, we're bigger'n yer both and we're gonna be handing him over for a ton of silver and you…are going to make our evening." Astrid sighed.

"Hiccup…if your plan has any legs, this is the time…" she prompted.

"Um, I was more thinking wings," he told her and flipped the top of the saddlebag off, releasing an annoyed Fang. Hiccup smiled madly and the little dragon zoomed at the first man, the one holding Astrid and bit him hard several times, drawn a lot of blood. The man howled and dropped her. As she was kicking him in the midriff. Fang attacked number two, his ferocious little teeth slicing through cloth and flesh alike as he decided that he didn't like the bad-smelling men threatening his master and the female who his master travelled with. The second man tried to fight off the Terrible Terror and while he was attacking them, Astrid ran back to Hiccup. The boy grabbed her hand and they ran. The third man tried to take off after them as he leapt over his prone and pain wracked comrades—but Fang was suddenly gnawing viciously at his ankle and then he transferred his attentions to the man's calf, his thigh and finally took a huge bite out of his ass.

The man's scream of pain echoed after the two fleeing teens. Astrid stared at Hiccup and saw his lips tilted up with amusement.

"Should we call him back?" she asked. He shook his head.

"If he wants to come back, he will," he said easily as he heard the leather flap of wings and the dragon began his swooping flight back to his master. As they sped up the slope to where their dragons waited, Fang landed on Hiccup's head and the boy gave a small smile as he stumbled up the hill wearing the little dragon like a hat.

"Do you feel better now?" she asked him. His face was flushed, his eyes sparkling and though he was breathing hard, it was from the run, not from fear. He nodded.

"Thor, yes," he said and there was relief in his voice. "I guess what I needed was more…this…" And he gestured to himself. She frowned.

"More Hiccup?" she asked.

"More dragon-training, trouble-prone, plan-devising, slightly sassy Hiccup," he murmured with a small smile. She punched him in the shoulder and he yelped but he managed a smile.

"You owe me a kiss, Milady," he reminded her gently and she took the opportunity to plant one on the lips, causing him to exhale with a sigh. "Yeah, much better," he admitted. "Now let's get outta here."

oOo

They flew out that night and camped on a smallish rocky island that felt vaguely familiar. Hiccup hoped it wasn't Eel Island, though he reckoned that they wouldn't have got their dragons to come anywhere near an island packed with Eels and Typhoomerangs. But there was still a sense of familiarity and unease as they made their camp fire and snuggled up together, surrounded by their dragons.

Despite his declaration that he was feeling better, Hiccup still had a horrible nightmare that night, crying and whimpering into Astrid's arms and begging futilely Dagur not to abuse him. She had tenderly hugged him and reassured him as she had every night since they were reunited and she felt vindicated at the speed he settled as soon as he knew he was with her and surrounded by Toothless.

But they were woken early by an earthquake, the ground shaking and jumping. Toothless and Stormfly were up instantly and the two teens leapt up, grabbing their saddlebags and sleeping furs and leapt onto heir dragons as the roar increased and the ground mere yards from their campsite exploded and an enormous white spiny shape burst up with a shattering roar that disorientated the dragons. Hiccup's mind lurched back a few months to Fishlegs's frantic response when asked what sort of dragon they were facing…

"…an all-white Boulder class titan wing Whispering Death with bright red eyes that bore holes through your very soul!"

But Hiccup still though Tuffnut's name was better. "SCREAMING DEATH!" he shouted, tugging Toothless away. Stormfly raced after him as the enormous dragon fixed its blood-red eyes on the familiar black dragon and gave its roar, disorientating the dragons further. Toothless roared a challenge but Hiccup dragged the Night Fury away. "No, Toothless-we don't need to fight him!" he said urgently. "We have to get away: there is something more important to do!"

"C'mon, girl," Astrid shouted, "we need to get away!" And they flipped into a tight turn and headed north, arrowing towards a familiar outline that jutted from the restless sea on the horizon. The Screaming Death followed them through a few seastacks but they were heading towards the one island the Screaming Death would not follow them to: Dragon Island. When they had been displaced from their own islands, many of the dragon herds had moved to dragon island and their concerted defence had driven the Screaming Death away and saved the island from sinking. The huge dragon knew it could face defeat again and it had avoided the place since. The two shocked and exhausted riders landed on the black volcanic sands and caught their breaths.

"Wow," Hiccup gasped as he stared south. "That was Short Pine Island. I thought it felt familiar-but it's way smaller than it used to be."

"Yeah-you remember that picnic we took there-and Ruff and Tuff tricked Snotlout into skinny dipping then set all his clothes on fire?" Astrid grinned reminiscently.

"Bleurgh! I couldn't unsee that!" Hiccup grumbled. "The dragons of Dragon Island are holding it back but it's still hanging around, waiting for its chance to head north-towards Berk." He sighed. "At least we know where it is," he added. "That may be useful…"

"For what?" Astrid asked him. He shrugged.

"I really can't think now," he murmured, "but who knows? At least we should be safe here for a little while-until night falls and we go to Outcast Island." She stared at him and then cast around.

"In which case, we need a fire and something to eat…or you, mister skinny, will get blown off your dragon by a puff of wind!"

"Ha! Ha!" Hiccup retorted, but he smiled at her. "Just let me do the cooking, okay?"

They headed out at dusk, keen to avoid being observed from Berk or any vessel sailing or patrolling around Berk or Outcast Island. There was the sliver of a moon but a bright, cold sky full of stars and they flew swiftly, sure of their directions this time. Hiccup lay low over Toothless's neck, his knuckles white in the moonlight. He knew why he was doing this, knew why he was returning to the place he feared above all-but though his mind was clear, his heart was pounding and he felt sick.

"C'mon, bud," he said. "We have to do this. I have been called a traitor and a murderer. But I am a Hooligan and I won't let him destroy my Tribe…"

They accelerated, dipping low to the sea and slicing just above the waves, a spray of water exploding after their furious passage. They skirted the territorial waters and approached from the desolate north, landing on the arid plains just north of the village. Slowly, they made their way to the outcrops and cliffs above the village and the harbour. The clouds had come over and the view was poor. So they hunkered down for the night, huddled against their dragons and taut as a bowstring.

Astrid grasped his hand: he had gotten over his fear of being touched by her and found her closeness comforting. He snuggled against her and wrapped his cloak around them both. "Why are you here really?" she asked him softly. He blinked slowly and then his grip on her hand tightened.

"It's not about being macho," he told her softly, "but it is about who I am. Dagur tried to take everything from me. My freedom, my tribe, my name, my worth…but I was rescued. And I have struggled recalling who and what I am. I am a Viking of Berk, the son of Stoick the Vast, the Rider of Toothless and Head of the Dragon Training Academy. If I don't do this, I am not who I was the day before all this happened. And he will have won." He swallowed. "And there are people I still care for on Berk: I don't want them killed if I can stop it."

"But-but are you alright with being here?" she asked him. His hand tightened further.

"Honestly? No," he admitted. "I look down on this place and I hear their taunts, their blows and whips, feel the cold and hunger and fear. And I feel sick and terrified that I may end up here again. But I have to do this." She wrapped her arm around him.

"I am here, babe," she murmured. "I can't imagine how bad you feel at being here…and yet here you are because Berk needs you." She snuggled against him. "Berk needs you, Hiccup."

"And stopping Dagur at least will make up for a little of what he did to me," he sighed. "Thanks, Astrid. I-I don't know I would have done without you these last weeks." She grinned.

"Told you," she said smugly. "Now get a little rest: the dragons will wake us."

oOo

Astrid nudged him awake at dawn. He had woken with a nightmare but she had slapped her hand over his mouth and eased him back into quiet sleep before anyone could hear. The dragons had roared and since there were wild dragons on Outcast Island, the one guard who had heard the cry just assumed it was another dragon being killed. Hiccup blinked sleepily-and then was completely awake. He squinted up: the grey sky was warming with pink dawn and the half-light would be sufficient to see. So they cautiously made their way to the top of the cliffs and peered down into he harbour.

Below them, an Armada of sixty ships was floating. Hiccup fished out his spyglass and peered through: they looked well armed and fully provisioned. Men were on the docks but, to his eye, they didn't look completely ready. He scanned the ships. About a dozen still needed provisioning and two still needed catapults fitting. He handed the glass to Astrid.

"They'll be ready to leave later today," he said. "And they'll arrive on Berk tomorrow."

"And no one will suspect a thing." Astrid voice was toneless. "Sixty ships…"

"Over a thousand men," Hiccup agreed. "At least twice our population-three times the adult male population. We won't stand a chance if they invade."

"Could we stop them here?" Astrid asked. Hiccup looked across and saw the catapults stationed on the other cliffs and at the harbour.

"We'd be shot down before we sunk more than a couple," he said softly. "But at sea with the whole Academy-and this kind of cloud cover…we could sink enough to turn them back…or launch our fleet to meet them and offer air support. I think if we went home…we could save Berk." She stared at him. He was white but his voice was determined and steady.

"Are you sure?" she asked him, but he was already crawling back to Toothless.

"We need to make a fast getaway," he told her. "We'll leave straight over the eastern shoreline-it's the most lightly defended. And then we need full speed to Berk." He offered her a wan smile. "Cheer up, Astrid-we're going home."


	33. Dishonoured

The village of Berk appeared below them as they circled and Astrid looked across at Hiccup. The boy was very pale, his face tight with anxiety but also determination. He knew the welcome he could expect but he also knew why they had returned.

"Ready?" Astrid called and he nodded.

"Are you?" he called back. "I seriously doubt your Dad will be happy with you being away with me for so long." He face tightened and she took a deep breath.

"You know why I had to stay, babe," she told him firmly. "Now let's land. They need to know." With a sigh, Hiccup nodded and they circled once more and landed by the growing crowd, directly in front of the stern shape of Stoick the Vast. Hiccup swung his leg over the dragon and landed on the grass of his home. He heard the thump as Astrid leapt off Stormfly and he lifted his head to stare into his father's face. It was completely silent otherwise.

"Hi, Dad," he said quietly. Stoick stared at him for a long moment-then took a step forward and flung his arms around the skinny boy, wrapping him in an enormous embrace.

"Son," he said in a gruff, emotional voice. "Welcome home!" Hiccup waved a hand desperately.

"Dad," he gasped, "AIR!" The big Chief immediately released the pressure, allowing his son to take a well-needed breath.

"My boy," the Chief said softly. "Let me look at you..." And he held Hiccup by the shoulders at arms length, inspecting the uncomfortable shape. Hiccup was a little less skinny and his bruises had faded. He was still wary looking and fidgety but a little of the shame had lifted from his bright forest green eyes. His auburn hair was wild from the flight and the boy ran his fingers through it self-consciously. He shuffled his feet-flesh and metal-and stared at the ground, feeling really self-conscious. The he shrugged.

"Um...yeah...raw Vikingness abounds," he muttered sarcastically. Stoick quirked a small smile.

"Glad to have you back, son," he said and looked up at the villagers. Every other face-apart from Gobber's-was unfriendly despite the Chief's obvious welcome and approval of his prodigal son and Ulf Hofferson was looking positively furious. He moved towards his daughter angrily and grabbed her arm roughly.

"Where have you been?" he shouted. "How dare you leave without my permission and spend so long away with this-this slave!" Astrid stared at him: he was raging like a Berserker and wondered why he had taken such a fierce dislike to Hiccup, whom he had apparently liked and admired before... And she stopped. It was exactly as he had said, exactly as he had warned. Nothing bad is ever forgotten-and no good deed ever lasts. Gods, he had known. She stole a look at his face and saw him stiffen, his shoulders slump at the hate-filled tone. No matter that they had been dodging Dagur's bounty hunters and dragon trappers, the reality of Berk was like a slap in the face.

"I swore I would find him, Dad," she said shortly. "He is my friend and he was alone and needed help."

"I forbade you to go." Her father's voice was angry.

"He is my friend," she insisted.

"And why were you away so long?" Hofferson snarled. "You have been gone for months! You could have returned a long time ago!"

"I chose to stay with Hiccup," Astrid said and her mother blanched. Her father turned scarlet with rage, his blue eyes glittering with implacable fury.

"Have you no idea what you have done?" he roared. "You are ruined! No decent man would take you after this!" His expression was disgusted. "I doubt even an examination would convince a potential husband of your virtue. You are soiled goods, girl. And no use to me!"

She stared at him in shock. Her father had always been hard to please, a stern taskmaster always demanding the very best and intolerant of any signs of weakness or failure. She had practiced until her arms had ached, until her hands had bled to please him and meet his exacting standards-all to make her the best warrior she could be: a shield maiden, dedicated to battle. But she had never realised that his ambition had extended to her future marriage. Astrid had precisely one thought in that direction and he stood still and anxious a couple of yards away.

"Dad!" she said, her voice shocked. "Please, I...we..." He swooped forward and grabbed her shoulders, leaning forward to glare into her shocked eyes.

"Did you sleep with him?" he demanded. She swallowed and Hiccup turned his head to look at her. His eyes warned her not to say anything. But Astrid was furious, at the implication and the lack of trust. Her fists balled, knuckles white against her skin.

"We shared a bed ," she hissed at him, "but..."

"WHORE!" Hofferson snarled, a thick finger stabbing at the slim shape standing in front of him. "SLUT! How dare you come home and shame your family and your tribe! You should have stayed away with your dishonour! You are not my daughter. As of this moment, you are not a Hofferson!"

Astrid gaped, her face white and shocked. She had expected her father to be angry and disappointed at her headstrong actions but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined...this. Her mouth worked soundlessly and she stared around wildly but she saw her mother weeping uncontrollably, her brothers looking shocked and she knew...she knew this was as serious as it could be. She stared over at the Chief, his brows folded in a scowl and at Hiccup. His face was as white and shocked as hers but there was another emotion there as well: guilt.

"D-Dad...I...we didn't..." she began but he turned his back on her, shunning her. With a sob, her mother and brothers did the same. She looked around wildly. "Please..." she begged. "I love you..." She stared around the rest of the village and saw accusing and disgusted expressions. Her father was respected and his words had damaged his admired and respected daughter hideously. She turned around, seeing formerly friendly faces turn cold and she began to tremble...and then a hand gently took hers, the grip warm and comforting. Hiccup stood at her side, his face determined.

"This is wrong!" he announced sternly, his voice steady. "What is it about this gods-damned tribe that you can jump to such disastrously wrong conclusions so quickly?" They stared at him, their sneering expressions unchanged. "Astrid has done nothing to deserve this. She is exactly the person she was before." He turned to the Chief. "Dad...surely you..." And then he stopped. Stoick's expression was cold and remote. Hiccup sagged. "Not you too," he sighed. Stoick stared at his son and folded his arms.

"This is a matter for Ulf Hofferson to decide," he said.

"And he's made the wrong decision!" Hiccup argued, his grip on Astrid's hand firm. "Dad...this is Astrid we're talking about! The best Viking on Berk! The absolute total and utterly perfect Viking warrior and..."

"Dishonoured and disowned," a voice shouted from the crowd. Astrid squeezed her eyes closed and Hiccup turned to glare at the direction the voice came from.

"Yeah, you said that about me as well," he muttered.

"Slave!"

"Traitor!"

"Slut!"

He winced and squeezed Astrid's hand. "Looks like I didn't stay away long enough," he sighed, confirming the worries he had expressed while they had been away. Then he turned to his father. "Dad-what happens now?" Stoick looked uncomfortable.

"She has to leave the village-unless she is adopted by another family..." he said quietly. Astrid stiffened and he could feel her trembling. The boy scanned the crowd but no one would meet his eyes. So he turned to his father.

"Dad..." he said softly but Stoick shook his head.

"I'm sorry, son, but that would be impossible," he said. Hiccup turned like a shot, his face twisting with anger.

"What?" he hissed. "Why?" The Chief looked uncomfortable.

"Because she is dishonoured," he said quietly. "Son, you have to understand..."

"So am I," Hiccup replied through his teeth. "Or have you forgotten? I am shamed, dishonoured, utterly ruined...yet you welcomed me back. Astrid is my best friend and the reason why you rescinded my exile in the first place-even though the sentence was wrong anyway. And she has saved my life on our travels as well. If she is not welcome, how can I be?"

"You are my son," Stoick said. Hiccup paused.

"Then make her your daughter," he said quietly. "I can marry her."

There was a stunned silence. Stoick's jaw actually dropped and Hofferson spun to glare hatefully at the two teens.

"No," he said. "I forbid it!" Hiccup stared at him and took a bold pace forward.

"As I understand it, you lost all say over Astrid's fate when you publicly disowned her!" Hiccup told him determinedly. "The Chief is the only one now who can sanction a marriage for her." Then he turned to Astrid, who was staring at him in shock. He swallowed. "I'm so sorry, Astrid," he said gently. "This is all my fault. You shouldn't have come after me because I knew I would taint you..." She managed a wan smile, her cheeks still wet with tears.

"You shouldn't have run off, you mutton-head!" she said in a shaky voice. He shrugged.

"There. Told you it was my fault," he said wryly. "I-I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want...but the offer is genuine. I love you...I have for years...and I can't let you be hurt like this when you have done nothing wrong."

"Son, we need to talk!" Stoick said sternly. Hiccup turned on him.

"No," he said quietly. "I know what you have to say. I know you are going to tell me I should wait and you will arrange an advantageous match with some girl I have never met and who hopefully hasn't heard what happened to me. And you will spend a fortune buying her for my wife because it may be to the benefit of the Tribe and because no decent woman would want me for a husband anyway-even if I hadn't been raped by Dagur. But I don't want to marry anyone but Astrid. I never have. And, frankly, no one would want to marry me. Hel, Astrid may not want to marry me..." He hung his head and bit his lip worriedly. "But if she says yes, then this will happen, Dad. You owe me for believing that I would try to kill you and exiling me to Outcast Island to die when I was wholly innocent." The unspoken accusation was plain-ultimately, this is YOUR fault.

Stoick stared at the boy and sighed. Hiccup was his son and they shared the same stubbornness, the same strong will and a very similar knowledge of the law. Hiccup had listened to all those times his father had told him about Tribal issues, no matter than the Chief had despised his son for his weakness and despaired of him ever becoming a proper Viking, and the boy had learned. His argument was factually correct in every aspect.

"Astrid, I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with," Hiccup said slowly, "but the offer is genuine. I meant what I said. I do love you. I don't want to marry anyone else. And I never sought this...but if you do become my wife, I will love you forever."

She blinked and her eyes shone. She palmed tears off her cheek and swallowed.

"You know I love you," she murmured. "I told you in the Port, in that forge after I found you. I said that you had never let me down and that you had done nothing wrong. I said...I said I deserved you and only you..." Then she took a dry sob. "But-but I don't deserve you any more. I'm...I'm not good enough." Hiccup took her hands in his and offered her a very shy smile.

"Hmm...we've both been disowned and dishonoured," he said quietly. " I kinda guess that means we actually really truly deserve each other...if you'll have...this..." And he shrugged self-consciously. She looked up and her mouth moved into the vaguest semblance of a smile.

"All that 'raw Vikingness'," she smiled and tightened her hands around his. "How can I resist?" She paused. "Yes," she said.

Hiccup dared not breathe in case he woke up. He stared at her carefully. "Really?" he asked her incredulously. "You're not joking?" She frowned.

"What? Would I joke about something like this? Now if this was the twins you were talking to..."

"Hey!" came a call from the crowd-Tuffnut. "That's not fair!"

"Yeah, Astrid. Like we'd joke about that either!" Ruffnut added.

"Like anyone's gonna ask you, sis?"

"They will before you!"

"Only if they're blind!"

"Only if they're a yak!"

"There's nothing wrong with a yak..."

"And my point is proven," Astrid sighed. "This is not a joke or a prank or anything like that. I AM SERIOUS. Do you want me to punch you?"

"Er...no...I thought we'd established that," Hiccup said nervously.

"Then shut up and kiss me!" Astrid told him and he carefully eased her close and very tentatively kissed her on the lips. She sighed. "No, like this!" she told him, grabbed his tunic and pulled him close, pressing a very firm and very sweet kiss on his lips. He scarcely dared breathe, his eyes closing and warmth exploding in his chest. When she pulled away, he was smiling dazedly.

"You win," he murmured. Stoick cleared his throat and the two teens looked up at his stern face. Hiccup blinked and pulled himself together. "Dad..." He warned and the Chief scowled.

"Look, I'm not about to..l" he began but Hiccup tightened his grasp in Astrid's hand and stared up at him.

"There was a reason why we returned to Berk now," he told the Chief seriously. "Berk is in danger. I must speak to the Elders now."


	34. My Heart, My Life

The Elders listened in shock and horror at his words and the testimony of the two teens had convinced them that Dagur's Armada was ready to sail. Hiccup sighed and admitted that he had heard word of the impending attack on his travels and Stoick had scowled that none of his allies had thought to warn the Hooligan Chief. The Council agreed to mobilise the Berkian Fleet-but there had been a serious problem…Gothi and Bucket were in complete agreement. A storm was coming-a big one. And it would hit in the morning.

"Just when the Armada is due," Gobber had noted.

"The fleet will be unable to go out," Spitelout agreed. Stoick folded his arms.

"They will come," he said, checking with his son. Hiccup nodded.

"Dagur doesn't care about the weather or sanity in general," he admitted. "If he decides to do something, he does it. And to Hel with any other consideration. He will attack." Stoick stared at him.

"We will need the dragons," he said quietly. Hiccup nodded and his face paled.

"I know," he sighed. "We are probably Berk's best hope. And that means…I will have to face him again, Oh gods…" Astrid tightened her grasp on his hand.

"It's okay, babe," she said softly, "I'll be with you." He nodded and offered her a wan smile.

"Thanks," he sighed then lifted his head to stare hard at his father. "We will prepare the Academy for war. You will be on Thornado?" The Chief nodded. "I want us to be married tonight!" Hiccup said sternly. Stoick shook his head.

"Son, even if it wasn't such a contentious issue, there is no way the preparations or the proper protocol could be done in time…" Stoick protested.

"Dad-that wasn't a request," Hiccup said sternly. "There is no contract to decide. There will be no dowry. You will set aside a suitable bride price for Astrid and put it in trust for any children we may have in the future. I will sort out the Morning Gift. Since we are supposed to have already attended to the physical aspects of our relationship, there is no need for the formal preparation rituals for bride and groom. I am certain Gobber and Gothi would be willing to attend-and the Riders. And there will be no need for a feast or any witnesses since that point is apparently moot." He was breathing hard. "Arrange it for tonight. I will sort out the rings-with Gobber's permission?"

The blacksmith nodded, his eyes shocked and amused at Hiccup's determination.

"Lad, I am certain ye already know what yer doin' so get at it!" he said with a grin. Hiccup turned to Astrid.

"Can you sort out the others?" he asked her gently. She nodded.

"And what will you be doing, husband to be?" she asked in an amused voice. He led her to the door as Stoick started bellowing orders to the Elders. He stopped and stared into her face, his eyes worried.

"Sorting your Morning Gift," he said quietly. "That will be all yours, Astrid. Wealth and security for you-whatever happens." She paused and opened her mouth to scorch a retort-and then she saw it in his eyes. The worry, the guilt…the fear. And she realised.

"You are afraid that Dagur will get you…kill you?" she guessed. He nodded.

"He's insane and I am vulnerable…even with Toothless," he said quietly. "There will be six of us against an entire Armada. And the aren't terribly great odds-especially as Dagur will be looking for Toothless and me." He sighed. "If anything happens to me, Astrid, being my wife…being my widow will protect you. You will still be Stoick's daughter and he will protect you in my memory. It may not stop you being courted by Snotlout, I am afraid, but the Morning Gift will grant you financial independence." His voice had grown thick and he stared at the floor.

"You've planned this?" she accused him. He sighed.

"On the way back to Berk because I feared this would happen," he admitted. "I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't think about your safety…"

"Or Hiccup if you didn't think of the worst," she smiled and gently kissed him again. "Go. I'll get the others ready." He smiled, whistled for Toothless and chatted to his dragon as they launched into the grey and lowering sky, heading inland.

He returned a couple of hours later and headed straight for the forge, much to Gobber's amusement. His saddlebags were bulging and the old blacksmith gaped at the treasures he had brought. He carefully pulled out a solid gold goblet and got a small crucible, then melted the goblet down ruthlessly. Gobber gaped as the boy carefully made two moulds and cast two rings in gold from the melted precious metal. Once they were cool, he set to finishing them, moulding the shape, decorating them and fitting them to the size he wanted. He gestured to the crucible, still almost full of gold.

"That's for you, Gobber," he said softly. Gobber, for once, was speechless.

"Wh…how…lad…it's too much!" he gaped. Hiccup stood up straight and gently caught his hand.

"Gobber, you have been like a father to me, you believed in me when no one else did and gave me the skills I needed to help Toothless fly. And you helped and supported me when I was so broken from my treatment by Dagur," he said softly. "I don't need this-and you sought this, many years ago…" And then Gobber gaped and stared at him.

"This is from the treasure of Hamish the Second?" he blurted. Hiccup smiled and nodded. "But I thought it was lost when the cavern collapsed…" Hiccup smiled shyly.

"It was," he said. "But Toothless and I both know where the treasure lies buried-and Toothless was good enough to dig some out for me-for Astrid." Gobber stared at him.

"Yer could be rich," he said. "Yer should have taken it when yer left…"

"I didn't even think of it then," Hiccup admitted, rubbing his neck awkwardly, "because it wasn't important…and all I wanted was to get away. But it struck me when I needed gold for a ring for Astrid." Gobber shook his head as the boy leaned over the rings, gently and accurately carving an intricate pattern onto the soft metal, frowning as he visualised the end result and used every ounce of his skill in the effort. This was for Astrid, who had saved him. And he knew that what he was doing now would save her.

They met back up in the Great Hall after dark. Hiccup had changed into his other tunic-the dark red one that Astrid and Stoick had sewn for him. Astrid had managed to borrow a gown of dove grey from gods-know-where and a woven crown of leaves and was standing with Ruffnut at her side. Hiccup walked up anxiously and stood before Gothi. His father was standing at his back with the other riders standing around in a loose circle. Gobber stood by Gothi, translating her scratches. Astonishingly, Snotlout came to stand by Hiccup's side.

"Give me the rings, cuz," he said in a low voice. "I'll stand by you now." Hiccup swallowed in surprise and gratitude-then handed them over. The bigger boy peered at the delicately worked bands of gold, the intricate Viking carving surrounding runes. Astrid looked up shyly, her blue eyes wary. She was feeling as if this was completely unreal, that it was a dream…until she looked across as the skinny, nervous and embarrassed looking shape of Hiccup. He ghosted her a smile and looked very pale-almost ill. But he seemed to gather himself, swallow nervously and then gently walked forward to loop something cool around her neck: the little string of perfectly smooth azure beads he bought because they were the colour of her eyes. He fastened them in place and she gave a shy smile as he self-consciously moved back to his place. Then he offered her his hand and she took it willingly as Gothi began to scratch and Gobber peered down and started to translate the runes-badly, as it turned out. Hiccup nearly found himself accepting Astrid as his wolf and she was surprised that she was being asked to love and oyster her new husband. Hiccup smiled: obedience would never be an option for Astrid and he would never ask it of her anyway.

Astrid's eyes widened with wonder at the rings Snotlout handed over and she looked into Hiccup's anxious face. The bands were beautiful, the work exquisite and the runes…she peered and her heart stopped. My heart, my life, AH. She had to blink and smiled at him as the cool metal slid onto her finger. She slid one onto his hand as well and saw him gulp.

"May the gods bless this union with love and prosperity and fruitfulness," Gobber recited. "May your life together be long and filled with joy!" Then Hiccup stood forward and kissed Astrid tenderly. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him.

"My husband," she murmured. He took a disbelieving breath.

"My wife," he replied softly. And then Snotlout broke the moment by clapping Hiccup violently on the shoulder and almost knocking him over. The other riders joined in, hugging the new couple and clapping Hiccup on the back so hard he did fall over. Astrid helped him up and glared at Tuffnut, seeing the alarm on his face at the blows and the still-horrific feeling of being surrounded by people. Then they all went and sat at a single table together, having a normal supper and laughing and joking. Fishlegs, Snotlout and Tuffnut all offered Hiccup almost certainly useless, inaccurate or wildly stupid advice while Ruffnut nudged Astrid and shared a hastily whispered conversation that had Astrid blushing fiercely. But Hiccup stiffened when his father leaned towards him from the head of the table.

"Son," he said quietly, "I know why you insisted on haste. It's the battle, isn't it?" He nodded, staring at his plate and looking ashamed. The Chief took a deep breath. "You know, I could not have been more proud. A Chief protects his own-and Astrid is the one you love, isn't she?" Another small nod. "Son, no matter what happens, I will protect her for you." Hiccup looked up-then rose and hugged his father fiercely.

"Thanks, Dad," he murmured. "You don't know what that means to me." Then the Chief rose and walked to Astrid. She rose, anxiously, but he wrapped a strong embrace around her.

"Welcome, daughter," he said softly. She tentatively hugged him back, still unnerved at the rapid change in her fortunes and closed her eyes.

"Thank you, sir," she said softly. He grinned.

"Call me Stoick," he said.

oOo

After the meal, they went home. They had completed a longish flight back to Berk and had a very busy day. Neither of them had truly believed the way the day had turned out. Hiccup sternly forbade his father from following them upstairs and he scowled until Stoick and Gobber went back to the Great Hall. Then Hiccup paused and stared at the stairs as if they were made of lava. He froze and blinked hard. He had almost forgotten what had happened in that room, had managed to push the memory aside…until he was here, now, contemplating walking up those stairs…

…dragged up those stairs, Dagur's grip ferocious on his struggling shape, his silent resistance desperate…the tears leaking from his eyes, the fear clutching his heart in a vice…the foul breath on his neck as he was dragged up to the loft…the hands on his beaten shape…the violent assault that haunted him…

He blinked and froze, all the colour draining from his face. He began to tremble and Astrid, who was already two steps up paused, then looked at him-and memory struck.

"Hiccup? Oh gods!" she gasped and turned, striding urgently to his side and taking his trembling hands. He shook his head, closing his terrified eyes.

"S-sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Astrid…I…" She wrapped her arms around him tightly and felt him cling to her, shaking.

"No-it's okay, Hiccup. I-I'm so sorry. I…forgot…" Her voice was shamed. He sighed.

"You go ahead," he sighed. "I'll…" She shook her head.

"Hiccup-if you stay down here, so will I," she told him. He groaned: the bed had been moved upstairs and they would literally have to sleep on the floor of the main room by the fire pit for their wedding night. And though both teens were virgins and neither really had any intention of altering that fact in the near future, it would be horrendously awkward trying to explain this to his father. He pressed a kiss on her lips and his hand wound tightly around hers.

"You are with me," he said wanly. "I can do this…for you…" And he pulled away from her and turned slowly to the stairs. The newly weds tentatively made their way upstairs and Hiccup sighed. This was the part that was making him really uncomfortable and he stood as he watched Astrid perched on the edge of the bed, trying to ignore the memories that surged across his vision.

I was really trying to be nice…but now, this is really going to hurt…

"You have the bed," he invited her stiffly. "I'll sleep over there…" He gestured vaguely to the far wall. She rolled her eyes and pulled the crown of leaves off her head.

"You idiot," she huffed. "This is our wedding night!" He fidgeted away from her, staring at his feet and twisting his hands. This was suddenly the beaten down Hiccup who had returned from Outcast Island, not the more confident young man who had partially resurfaced over their travels. Then he realised what she had said.

"What?" he said suspiciously. She rolled her eyes again.

"Hiccup, we have basically been sleeping in the same bed for weeks, because of your nightmares," she told him irritably. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. But I am not spending tonight with my new husband sleeping on the floor!" Hiccup sighed and his shoulders slumped.

"But…that bed…" he whispered and she rose to stand by him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he automatically folded his arms around her middle.

"Hiccup-I know," she sighed. "I know you were horribly hurt here. And if you want us to go downstairs, then we can. But I won't lie on the bed and watch you sleeping on the floor like a slave." He shrugged. He was used to sleeping on the floor-which is what he had been ever since he ran from Berk and all the time on Outcast Island-but a small corner of his mind was looking forward to sleeping on a bed and the comfort and warmth of another person. Trembling, he took a step towards her.

"I'l…try…" he admitted and sighed. Leaning against the wall, he pulled off his boot and took off his fur vest, folding it neatly by the side of the bed. He looked: Stoick had found a couple of larger furs to cover the new couple and an extra pillow and Hiccup looked away, blushing, as Astrid removed her boots and the borrowed dress (one of Ruffnut's!) then dragged on an old tunic of Hiccup's-one too patched for even him to wear. He heard the rustle as she slid into the bed and then he carefully took a step forward.

This was the moment of truth and with a silent prayer to Odin, he perched on the edge of the bed and unstrapped his prosthetic leg. He held it for a long moment, feeling his heart fluttering madly in his chest as he rested it by the bed. Self-consciously, he slowed his breathing.

This is Astrid, not Dagur. She won't hurt me. And she knows…Odin, please let me do this…

He shuffled in next to her, pulling the furs just over his body and trying to lie not touching any part of her. He was trembling-partly from fear and memory and partly in embarrassment. Since the bed was narrow and designed only for one, he was incredibly stiff and uncomfortable. Astrid stared at him for a long moment.

"Are you going to lie like that all night?" she asked pointedly.

"I can try," he said stiffly. The memories were more pervasive than he had thought. He was absolutely terrified.

"You'll fall out."

"I'll be fine."

"And when you have your nightmare?"

"Won't." Gods, please no-because I know what it will be about, here. Oh gods…please…

"You're probably right. Because you won't get a wink of sleep!"

He sighed. "So be it," he said a very quiet voice. "I did this to you, Astrid. The least I can do is…" She turned onto her side and glared at him. He looked pallid and afraid, almost in pain. She could see he was really tense and forcing himself not to get up and run down the stairs and away from the memories.

"Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third!" she said in a dangerous voice. "Husband or not, I am your friend. And as your friend, I can tell you that you will be worse than useless tomorrow when we are fighting for our and Berk's lives if you are utterly exhausted!" He rocked his head to face her.

"What will it matter?" he asked her despondently. "We'll probably lose anyway." Dagur will get me, one way or another. She took a shuddering breath.

"You can't think like that!" she told him softly.

"But Astrid…" he began and stiffened. Her hand had found his and she lifted it to her chest.

"If this is our last-our only-night together as husband and wife, then at least I want to spend it in your arms, Hiccup," she said softly. "I did mean it: I love you. And I don't want to lose you. And though neither of us planned that this would happen, I don't regret being your wife. Maybe it's far sooner than I had thought, but this is the only wedding I would have wanted."

The weight lifted from his chest somewhat and he found he could breathe. His heart slowed-but only a little because he was lying by Astrid and she was still his dream. Awkwardly, he scooched across until he was lying against her-and felt her snuggle into his side. He fidgeted and rolled towards her, resting his arm over her curled and warm shape. He twitched the furs across them comfortably and the memories, the hissing, cruel voice faded, replaced by her sweetness, her warmth, her presence. He found he could speak again and his brain began to function once more. And with it, the worries. "Astrid?"

"Yes, Hiccup?"

"Do you think they'll want to see the furs before the Morning Gift ceremony?"

"What?" Then she chewed her lip. "I don't know," she admitted. He sighed.

"I'll take care of it," he promised and snuggled against her, feeling her strong arms tighten protectively around his trembling shape. And despite his worries and the memories, he didn't have a nightmare that night as he slept in her arms.


	35. Armada

In the morning, Stoick did ask to review the sheets with Gothi before they left to intercept the Armada and Hiccup calmly obliged, fetching a sheet he had bloodied by cutting into the 'A' of the word 'SLAVE' carved inside his left arm. She had smiled at his reasoning: A for Astrid. Stoick had seen the stains and nodded. Gothi gave a curt nod and Hiccup had solemnly presented Astrid with a small but heavy chest-which she had opened and and then gasped at. The soft warm glow of gold faced her and she had gaped at a fortune in jewels, coins and a couple of small golden statues. She looked up into his face and gaped. His father had also gaped and his eyes had bugged out. Hiccup gave a small smile.

"From the Treasure of Hamish the Second," he told his father. "I found it-and though the knowledge that Hamish was a Hiccup was enough, a little treasure was useful to protect my new wife should the worst happen." Gothi smiled and nodded. The boy turned to her. "And if anything happens to both of us-protect Astrid, please?" She laid her wizened hand on his arms and squeezed reassuringly. Astrid-dressed in her old tunic, skirt and leggings-clouted his arm.

"Nothing is going to happen!" she told him. Hiccup sighed and peered through the door. The wind was howling and the sky was low and dark grey. The storm had come to Berk-and traveling on the wings of the storm was the Berserk Armada.

"Can't guarantee that!" he sighed. "But I can do my best." She kissed him on the cheek.

"You better," she murmured as they rose, made their final preparations and made their way to their dragons. Hiccup hugged Toothless solemnly.

"It's okay, bud," he told the Night Fury. "We're just going for a little flight-and a little fight with Dagur…" Toothless growled and Hiccup gave a thin smile. "I know, bud-I don't ever wanna see him again either. But we're going to have to-because he's coming here to destroy Berk and we can't allow that to happen!" Astrid vaulted onto Stormfly and grinned at him.

"You take care out there, Dragon Boy!" she called and he grinned back up at her.

"You too, Milady," he smiled. He saw Astrid's face fall as her father and elder brother walked past without looking up once to help man the catapults at the harbour. He sighed. "And remember-I love you." She managed a tiny smile.

"I love you too," she managed and kicked her dragon into the air. Hiccup glanced over to his father, who was climbing onto Thornado, his blue Thunderdrum. Then he launched Toothless into the air and swooped after his wife.

oOo

The dragons flew determinedly away from the harbour and headed in the direction of Outcast Island, battling against the gale. The fleet was unable to safely leave the harbour because of the waves and the ferocious currents. The Armada wasn't in sight but the visibility because of the fierce spray was very poor and Stoick had decided he didn't want until the Berserker ships were on their doorstep. So they flew out in formation, until Berk faded from sight and the wind was like icy knives in their faces.

And then the fleet came into sight: huge and ferocious. The Skill motif on the sails was unmistakeable and sent a shudder down Hiccup's spine. The memories of his last time on one of those ships…on that ship, where Dagur had raped him for the first time… He blinked and Toothless crooned at the suddenly change in pressure on the tail pedal. Hiccup shook his head.

"I'm okay," he murmured. Then he looked over to his Riders and to his Dad, sitting very upright next to him. "Dad? Any thoughts?"

"We need to take as many ships out of action as possible before they know where we are!" he shouted. Hiccup nodded and gestured to the left of the Armada.

"Snotlout, twins-take that group there!" he shouted. "Astrid, Fishlegs-that right hand group!" Astrid cast him a worried look but he nodded: she was an excellent rider and leader in her own right. They both knew it was the right use of their forces. "Dad-you're with me!" He raised his fist. "GET THEM!" he yelled.

The Riders shot apart, each determined to do their part. Snotlout and the twins took the left flank, the most densely populated part of the fleet. Both the dragons had significant firepower and Snotlout exploded a ship on his first pass while the twins had another crippled, its mast and half its hull blown away by the gas explosion from their Zippleback. Astrid punched through her assigned targets, her dragon's magnesium-hot flame igniting even saturated sails and reducing three ships to burning hulks on her first pass. Catapults literally melted under her furious assault. Likewise Fishlegs on Meatlug, whose lava blasts just eroded straight through the deck and hull of any ship they landed on.

Dagur's flagship was in the central group and Hiccup on Toothless came through at top speed, the plasma blasts exploding ship after ship and the others slammed aside by the shock wave of the Night Fury's passing. Thornado took a more direct approach and blasted ships using his sonic roar that slammed ships apart. Ship after ship succumbed, because the poor visibility and the dragons' wild swooping stopped the Berserker ships firing catapults accurately at them. Until the flagship got lucky, the raging Dagur screaming his fury at the disintegration of his fleet. Catapult after catapult launched their stones wildly-and one glanced off Thornado, damaging the dragon's wing and tipping his rider off. Hiccup was too far away to catch him and he saw his father fall-and land hard on the deck of the flagship. The Thunderdrum flapping feebly away, heading back towards Berk, unable to help and barely stay in the air. The others were too far away, chasing the remnants of the fleet and harrying them as they retreated, unaware of the drama. Hiccup flipped Toothless round in a tight loop.

"C'mon, bud-this is for Dad!" he said and they arrowed in for a lethal attack…

"STOP-UNLESS YOU WANT A NEW CHIEF!" Dagur screamed, his sword digging hard into Stoick's throat, his arms restrained by four men. The Chief was furious but helpless and Hiccup pulled Toothless up and flipped him round, hovering in the storm over the flagship.

"Let him go, Dagur. You've lost!" Hiccup shouted.

"Let's call it a draw," the Berserker Chief sneered. "I lose my Armada-and you lose your Chief…and your owner…slave!" Hiccup's face scrunched in fury and he wiped rain from his eyes, his sodden hair plastered to his head.

"You hounded me all across the Archipelago and beyond-and it was all a lie!" he shouted angrily. "You accepted coin for me! I was freed by Stoick!"

"I was cheated!" Dagur snarled. "You're mine!"

Hiccup stared at him and cold fear clutched his stomach. Dagur would never let him go, never end the pursuit. But he could do some good with his life…do what needed doing.

"A trade!" Hiccup called faintly. "Stoick…for me."

"AND the Night Fury!" Dagger shouted.

"Don't be stupid!" Hiccup shouted. "You will NEVER get Toothless. Accept it, Dagur-I'm what you want. It's always been between the two of us."

"No!" Stoick shouted but Hiccup stared into the Berserker's pallid, mad eyes and felt his own stomach freeze with fear. He knew what he was proposing, what horrors he would face-but he would save Berk…because Berk needed Stoick. Snotlout just wasn't good enough. Letting Snotlout become Chief would doom the island. By surrendering his life to Dagur, he would save his Dad-and Toothless-and Astrid. It was the only thing he could do.

"Well, Dagur…what do you say?" Hiccup shouted, glad his face was already damp with rain. Dagur nodded.

"Accepted!" he shouted. "Land and we'll…"

"BACK OFF!" Hiccup shouted. "I'll land on the prow with Toothless. Dad walks forward and I walk to you. You allow them to take off safely-and then you have me. DEAL?" The Berserker nodded. Hiccup watched the soldiers all withdraw back beyond the mast and he landed Toothless on the deck by the dragon's head prow. He leaned forward and pressed his hand on the dragon's head. "You will always be my best friend," he murmured softly. "I'm sorry, bud. Don't-don't forget me. And look after Dad, will you?"

Then, his heart fluttering with fear and stomach dancing so much he felt sick, he clambered off the dragon and watched as his father was released and started to walk forward. Hiccup walked forward and nodded to his father as they crossed. Stoick looked distraught but the boy paused and hugged him hard.

"It's okay, Dad," he said softly. "This is how it must be. Berk needs you, not me. Take Toothless home-please. I can live and survive if I know you...if I know he is safe." He paused and slid something cold into his father's hand: a loop of gold that had sat on his hand for less than a day. "I love you, Dad," he added. "And tell Astrid…" He nodded, then turned away, trying not to see the tears in his father's stormy eyes. And then he heard the creak of the saddle, the little rustle as the tail opened and the low croon of Toothless. He glanced over his shoulder.

"Goodbye, bud," he whispered, his eyes tearing as they took off. Dagur stared at him and gave a cruel smile, his insane eyes glittering with malice. He raised a fist.

"FIRE!" he shouted. Hiccup spun round, seeing a catapult fire at close range at his dragon.

"No!" he screamed. "Toothless!"

But the missile smashed into the prosthetic tail and the dragon gave a despairing roar. Toothless flapped furiously but they listed and plunged down into the dancing, savage sea. They vanished from sight and did not reappear.

"NOOOOOOO!" Hiccup howled, utter anguish crashing over him. He wrestled away from the Berserker who had been lazily restraining him and sprinted at Dagur, his prosthetic foot crashing into the man's knee and small firsts hammering into his face. Totally unprepared, the Berserker Chief felt his nose crunch and blood splattered over his face. Hiccup's face was contorted in rage as he kept swinging and the blows landed Dagur on his back, stunned.

And Hiccup kept on howling, the eerie keening scream of a beast whose heart has been shredded, whose entire life is gone. His hands clawed at the older man's eyes, gouging at them and drawing blood. The howls echoed across the deck and the water as he tore Dagur's face open and lunged for his neck. Dagur was struggling to keep him off, overwhelmed by the superhuman strength the boy had suddenly developed in his grief. Finally, Savage rallied the men and they grabbed at Hiccup from behind, wrestling him away from Dagur's throat.

But the howls kept coming. Hiccup howled and struggled and fought as he was dragged off the battered and wounded Berserker Chief. They continued as he was slammed against the mast and tied helpless. They continued as the whip rose and fell, the weapons tearing at his back and spraying the deck with his blood. And they continued, unabated, until the gods took pity on Hiccup and granted him respite from his unbearable pain as he slumped, unconscious.


	36. They Were Dead

Toothless flapped helplessly as they sank into the ocean. The storm was thrashing the waters fiercely and he couldn't manage to break the surface. Stoick had separated and was sinking fast. And though Toothless couldn't fly, he was a strong swimmer, as all dragons were. So he undulated fiercely down and grabbed the Chief, who was struggling against the current. Toothless dragged him further down, under the fleet and away from the arrows and catapults they had no defence against.

Finally, they arched up and the Night Fury felt the Chief start to go limp as he ran out of air. And then suddenly, they broke the surface, clear of the remnants of the armada and fighting against the waves. And they heard the howling, echoing terrifyingly across the water from the ships. Chief and dragon shared a worried glance: it was Hiccup's voice, howling as if his heart had been torn out. The dragon made to swim to the ship but Stoick held him tight.

"Listen to me!" he spluttered through the spray. "LISTEN! We go back now and we will be killed. He gave up to save us. We have to get away. We can come back. We can come back..."

And then, the terrible howling abruptly stopped.

Stoick gave a low moan, his heart juddering in unbearable pain. For the screams to terminate so abruptly could mean only one thing. The Night Fury gave a fearsome howl, his huge green eyes filled with utter pain and despair. They both felt the same pain because they knew what had happened: Hiccup was dead.

For a long time, the dragon and the Chief struggled to stay afloat in the seas, united in grief. Finally, the Night Fury ducked under the man and manoeuvred him on his back. Dying out here didn't suit the a Night Fury's plans. His brother, his rider had been slaughtered and Toothless was determined to get home, get his tail fixed and come back. And then he and Hiccup's father would return and kill Dagur.

So they turned and the dragon began to scull back towards the distant isle of Berk.

oOo

Hiccup awoke on his face in a tiny cell. The floor was moving so they were on board Dagur's ship. His back hurt so badly he could barely breathe but he couldn't feel anything. His entire centre felt numb, as if his heart had been torn away. He was a slave once more, he had been beaten dismally and he had surrendered to save his Dad and Toothless.

But they were dead.

All he had to look forward to was the remainder of his life as a slave and a plaything. He would be worked and sneered at. Men would strike at him at random. He would be whipped and raped at Dagur's pleasure. And he would die, nameless and worthless and be fed to the dragons once he was gone. He had no honour, no hope, no future. He had given his life for his people who despised him and wouldn't even recall what he had done. For Astrid, who was protected. And for his Dad and Toothless.

But they were dead.

It was funny that he didn't seem to be so bothered by the fact he had lost them. He had always accepted his father would one day die, because his mother had gone when he was a baby and being a Viking was a hazardous occupation. He had been groomed as Chief but now his birthright had been handed to Snotlout. Berk would get Snotlout and Spitelout to run it. He hoped they would do a better job than he imagined they would.

And Toothless...

It hit hit then, as if an axe had just wrenched his heart from his chest. Pain rushed in, filling every pore of his body with boiling hot acid. His mouth opened and he rested his face against the floor, emitting an incoherent keen of agony. Shuddering sobs jerked through his savaged body and tears ran unchecked from his eyes. He could scarcely breathe and he couldn't see anything beyond the face of his dragon, feel anything beyond the yawning loss of his first and best friend. And he cried until he was exhausted and finally passed out.

He was woken when they docked and dragged back to his old cell, where he was given water and some dry meat before being taken to Dagur. He stared at the floor and refused to answer the Berserker Chief. Dagur grabbed his face and jerked the battered boy up to face him.

The Chief's face was a mess, his nose broken, bruising spreading under both eyes and gouges scoring his cheeks and chin and eyelids. There was a deep rip in his neck as well and Hiccup stared in shock at his handiwork: he was the single most useless Viking in Berk's three hundred year history at combat so that fact he had beaten the Berserker Chief seemed unreal. Though he deserved it, he added silently. And now, I will get what I deserve. Dagur's eyes were roiling with hatred and his fists were opening and closing menacingly.

"So you just couldn't stay away, Hiccup," he sneered, his eyes exploring the smaller viking's face. Hiccup raised his eyes, flat and dead.

"You promised, Dagur," he said tonelessly. "And now you have killed the Chief of Berk. Prepare for war." Dagur backhanded him.

"It's MASTER!" he roared. Hiccup stared evenly into his face, with no fear anymore.

"Never master," he replied. Dagur backhanded him to the ground, then rent his tunic open, his finger stabbing triumphantly at the slave brand.

"You're MINE!" he screamed. Hiccup raised his flat green eyes.

"No," he said. Dagur grabbed his throat and hauled the boy off the floor, staring into the eyes and expecting panic, pain, perhaps a pleading look...but there was nothing. It was as if Hiccup no longer cared what Dagur could do to him. The boy's slender throat bobbed as he struggled to breathe and he gave a slight sigh but Dagur dropped him before he could lose consciousness. He kicked the prone boy brutally and the boy exhaled in pain with every savage impact but he didn't beg. He just lay there and took the abuse. Finally, Dagur gestured and the boy was dragged limply to his chamber.

Hiccup was dumped on the floor and lay still. His body was hurting awfully and he felt sick. His head was spinning and he lay still, panting slightly. He knew what was coming next, but somehow, he no longer cared. It no longer mattered. Dagur had cut his heart out and the boy had no more motivation to fight. He couldn't train any dragons against his own people but otherwise, he would just let his doomed fate befall him.

Dagur dragged the boy up by his hair and pressed a rough kiss on his mouth, tasting the blood from the blows he had already inflicted on the boy. He sucked greedily on the boy's split lip and gently caressed the slender neck, the skinny shoulders and toast rack chest. Hiccup remained stock still, neither responding nor resisting. Dagur fisted his auburn hair and pulled his head back, sucking greedily at his throat, bruising his collar bones and scraping his teeth over the chest. The boy's throat bobbed again and he squeezed his eyes shut. Dagur greedily slid his hand down, cupping the boy's buttocks before sliding his hand into his leggings and grasping the boy's genitals.

Hiccup stiffened but remained absolutely still, his breathing calm and even. And he remained stubbornly limp in the Berserker Chief's hand. Angry, Dagur worked him harder but he remained utterly unresponsive. The Berserker tossed his helmet aside and threw Hiccup bodily onto the bed. He landed on his flayed back and gasped in pain, his eyes widening for a brief second before he settled back into his little pool of indifference.

Enraged, Dagur lunged at him, tearing his leggings down and shedding his leather armour and weapons. "Fine-if you don't want me to be nice to you, then I will make you scream, Hiccup!" His sadistic voice echoed through the room in a way that would have made Hiccup tremble in terror last time. And without any further preamble, he flipped the boy onto his front, forced his legs wide and furiously thrust into the boy, his hands bruisingly gripping the boy's hips. There was no tenderness, no preparation, only the sadistic desire to hurt and degrade the young man in his clutches. Dagur gave a laugh as he felt tissue tear, blood beginning to smear his shaft as he lunged brutally into the brutalised body beneath him.

Hiccup was thin, beaten and broken, his savaged body jolted by Dagur's assault but he wasn't resisting. Dagur fisted his hair, leaned forward and bit hard into his shoulders but the boy hardly jerked at the brutal injuries. The Berserker slapped his hand hard against the boy's ass and he jerked but made no noise. Finally, he hauled the boy up and leaned forward.

"You wanted this, didn't you, bitch?" He sneered. "You're so tight, despite all our lovely romps. You take cock like no boy I know. How many men did you whore yourself to on Berk? Have you forgotten you're mine boy? MY SLAVE! MY WHORE! MINE!"

Hiccup said nothing, his eyes closed and teeth gritted against the groans of physical pain. Dagur was tearing into him: he had never been so brutal but the boy expected the brutality as punishment for his attack. There was no emotional pain: his heart was still shattered from the deaths of his father and Toothless. Dagur could rend his body apart but his soul was already gone.

Enraged at his failure to respond, the Berserker abandoned taunting the boy and was just shouting obscenities as he used the boy, pouring his hatred and scorn onto the body he was pounding into. And Hiccup just lay still and took it, his eyes faintly shimmering with tears. There was a low moan as Dagur released but that was all.

Dagur stared down at the boy as he rose from the coupling. Hiccup had lain like a corpse, his body resisting slightly, the only sign he was alive. And it displeased the deranged Berserker more than he could express. The fun of the act-apart from the purely physical release-was the fun of forcing himself into Hiccup. Dagur savoured the younger viking's resistance against the violation, his desperate struggle against his rape. Dagur tingled every time he thought back to that wonderful time in Hiccup's old bed, fighting the boy who was resisting with every fibre of his being and screwing him almost senseless. This...slave wasn't even a shadow of the Hooligan Heir he enjoyed tormenting.

"A rather poor effort," he announced, pulling his armour back on. "Maybe I've broken you. Never mind," he continued in his eerie, singsong voice, "we'll have another go or two. But if you don't buck up you act, slave, I will have to give you to the men."

Hiccup just lay still, breathing gently. Dagur snorted and rose, leaving the boy lying half-naked and bloody on the bed. He never looked or he would have seen the tears streaming down the boy's bruised cheeks as he mourned for his father, his dragon, his beloved wife he would never see again and the last remains of his life.

oOo

Toothless was exhausted, the shivering and sodden Stoick on his back. He had swum as far as he could and the jagged shape of Berk was in the distance but the Night Fury knew his strength would fail and he would drown before they made land. Stoick's teeth had stopped chattering but he was still moving slightly, his grasp on the saddle strong.

Chief and dragon were both warriors. Both would kill without hesitation if necessary-and they had shared a a silent promise to take Dagur's life for slaying their Hiccup. Hiccup had been different-he was brave, almost fearless, inventive and oh so determined. But he was unflinchingly good-hearted, trusting, a little naive and dedicated to peace. He never struck first and never ever killed. He always sought the peaceful solution and sometimes frustrated his dragon who knew that a swift plasma bolt would solve the issue far more efficiently. But that wouldn't be the Hiccup way.

The sea was still stormy and wild but overhead, he heard the hissing shriek that was so familiar. Deadly Nadder. It was his friend. So he lifted his head and with the last of his strength, he gave a despairing roar.

They heard him and he heard the answering roar. He flapped feebly against the waves and one washed over them. Stoick was slipping and the dragon felt regret that he couldn't even save his rider's father, let alone beloved Hiccup. He gave one last despairing roar as the water closed over his head.

He felt the splash rather than heard it as Stoick was snatched from his back. Then another set of claws dug down through the frigid waves and Toothless felt himself scooped up by the strong claws of his friend, Hookfang. The Monstrous Nightmare pumped his wings, the dripping and limp Night Fury dangling from his sure grasp. Snotlout peered down at the exhausted shape, the smashed tail and the empty saddle and he peered over the Astrid, who was inspecting the frozen and soaking Chief and glancing frantically beyond for the missing shape.

"What the Hel happened?" he shouted. All semblance of cockiness had gone: this was deadly serious. "And where is Hiccup?"


	37. Remember me as I was

He was taken back to his cell soon after and left there to recover from his encounter with the Berserker until the next morning. He couldn't walk after the rape and they had been forced to drag him along. Once he had hit the floor, he had covered his brutalised shape with the remains of his clothing and he had curled up into a fetal ball, his arms hugging his shivering body. Despite every determined promise he had made to himself, he was sobbing in pain and horror, his body almost slipping into shock at the unparalleled assault.

Savage came in the next morning, fed him bread and water and threw a stained, undyed tunic over his body before dragging the boy out to work. There was yak dung to tidy up-of course-as well as chopping up the foul smelling Loki trees, carrying rocks for the walls and catapults and cleaning the communal bathing facilities. Hiccup automatically stole a wash of his face and body while he was there before turning back to his work. They were driving him into the ground and he welcomed the exhaustion. It stopped him dreaming.

He woke when he was kicked awake and listlessly ate the dried fish provided for him. He swallowed the water as well, before walking where his guards directed him. Another day of relentless toil yawned ahead of him and he struggled, his brutalised shape flagging. The work was even harder and the scrawny boy stumbled and fell. He was met by kicks, lashes and slaps until he stumbled up. They withheld half his food in punishment for his weakness. He collapsed into an even more exhausted sleep that night.

The next morning, he was given no food at all, just enough water to keep him alive but his guards were laughing nastily at him. He stiffened, guessing what would happen. And he was right: he was taken back to Dagur, who inspected his slave with disappointed eyes. Hiccup's eyes were downcast and he responded wordlessly to the Chief's commands, kneeling submissively at his feet. Slowly, he undressed the Berserker, peeling the armour from his body and sliding down his leggings and tunic until the powerful body towered over him. Then he froze, knowing what the Berserker wanted and refusing it.

Dagur was enraged. Hiccup was even more passive and unresponsive than previously, his pallid skin coloured only with his freckles and the livid bruises Dagur had generously granted him. He dragged the young man's head up and roughly kissed him but he may as well have been embracing a statue. He tried slapping and punching the boy but he just took the abuse, hitting the floor with regularity and achingly clambering to his feet as ordered. Dagur forced the boy to take him in his mouth, slamming away and causing the boy to gag violently but he did nothing else and Dagur had to finish himself off, feeling even more frustrated. Finally, the Berserker had broken first, slamming the slave against the wall of the cabin, tearing his clothing off and brutally violating him. Rigid with pain, feeling his flesh tear at the assault and blood smear his skin, Hiccup had given a stifled groan and prayed to any god listening to let him die. But he remained stubbornly conscious of the hideous assault as his teeth latched onto his lips to stifle any cries as his legs buckled and he collapsed after Dagur was done, but there was nothing else to show for the assault. No delicious sobbing or whimpering or cringing in terror. It just wasn't fun any more.

"You disappoint in all levels,-you know that, Hiccup?" Dagur sneered. "Do you enjoy being raped?"

There was a long pause and the Berserker thought the boy wouldn't answer. He raised his fist to beat the answer out of him but finally Hiccup moaned a soft reply.

"No."

"But you have stopped resisting so you must enjoy it!" the Berserker sneered, snatching his hair and forcing the ashen face up to stare at him. There were tears streaking Hiccup's gaunt face and his captor have a slow smile. "You're hating this!"

"You can do what you want," Hiccup rasped. "I don't care any more."

"So if I give you to the men, to use you as they need?" Dagur threatened. Hiccup just stared ahead, blinking slowly.

"You'll do what you want anyway," Hiccup said flatly. "Your word means nothing." Dagur threw him back against the wall and he hit with a loud thud. He slid to the floor and huddled up, his skinny arms thrown across his despairing face. Dagur rose and kicked him viciously.

"SAVAGE!" he shouted. The man appeared instantly, oozing in and Dagur realised that he had been waiting outside, like as not listening. He gave a small smile. "BORED! The boy isn't fun any more. You and the men can have some fun. As much fun as you want, in fact. Just...don't kill him. I want him alive, suffering as a slave. If he dies or is permanently disfigured, I will have ten men executed-and you'll be the first!" Savage's fists tightened and he nodded.

"Yes, your derangedness!" he said and snatched at Hiccup, his meaty grasp latching onto the itchy tunic and dragging the scrawny shape across the floor. Hiccup just allowed himself to be hauled along, his good leg scraping painfully over the uneven floor. He braced his leg and struggled enough to stop Savage for as long as it took to allow him to stumble to his feet. The man was eyeing him dangerously and Hiccup took a slow breath. Again, he could guess what would happen next, a violent nightmare of unremitting toil, physical pain and sexual abuse until his body finally succumbed. The Outcast manhandled the boy back to his cell and roughly shoved him in. Hiccup allowed his trembling legs to collapse under him and he slumped to his knees.

"So...Dagur no longer finds you interesting," Savage sneered, closing the cell door. "Don't worry, Hiccup. I won't lose interest so quickly." The boy just bowed his head though his hands were trembling slightly. Savage kicked him hard in the side and he gave a low cry as he was tossed to the floor. The second kick was accompanied by a snap and Hiccup knew he had broken ribs. He clenched his teeth and felt wetness on his face as he struggled to breathe.

I'm sorry, bud. I'm sorry, Dad. I did what I could to protect you. But in the end, I was the failure you all knew I was. Astrid...

Savage threw him onto his face and knelt behind him. He pressed his eyes closed and pictured the beautiful face, the blue eyes bright with laughter as they flew together. Her golden hair whipped in the wind as they soared over Berk. He recalled her kiss on his lips, the warmth of her body against his, her strong arms around him. He wondered what loving her would have felt like: he would never know now

Please, remember me as I was, he pleaded silently as Savage began to undo his belt.

oOo

Stoick's eyes snapped open and he sat up abruptly. "HICCUP!" he shouted.

Gobber was instantly at his side, his hand on his powerful shoulder. The Chief tried to slow his breathing and stared around. He was in his bed, tucked in warmly with Gobber, Spitelout and Astrid watching him. He passed a huge hand over his face and frowned. He recalled falling, hitting the icy sea and the dragon hefting him up onto its back to get him out of the frigid water. They had swum for over a day until finally, the cold had drained their strength, within sight of Berk. And there had been screaming...

"Hiccup..." he groaned. And then he recalled who had saved his life. "Toothless?"

"He'll be fine, sir. He slept three days straight, like you, but he's just eaten enough fish for himself, Stormfly and Hookfang combined!" Astrid reported, her tone relieved. Stoick frowned.

"Good," he growled and then frowned. His eyes locked onto her.

"I've slept for three days?" he asked, incredulously.

"You almost froze to death," Gobber reported. "Thor only knows how you made it. You'd almost made it to the harbour. It was only a routine patrol that found you. You'd swum back from the Armada?" Stoick nodded.

"The dragon did," he admitted and his throat thickened.

"Where's Hiccup?" Astrid asked anxiously, her tone reminding him that others cared for the boy as well. He lifted his chin and stared at his son's new wife, his daughter in law.

"I was shot down by the Berserkers," he admitted. "I was in their power-and he flew down. He traded himself for me and insisted I took Toothless away. He said goodbye." He fumbled in his tunic and pulled out the small gold band. he handed it over. "He told me to tell you he loved you and always will." She grasped the ring, her eyes brimming.

"Traitor," Spitelout muttered. Stoick glanced sharply at his brother.

"No," he said softly. "He just knows that no one feels he is worth anything any more. He doesn't believe anyone here wants him. And he wanted me to be free. He said that Berk needed me more than him. And then he gave himself back to them, back into slavery."

Astrid's soft gasp of dismay was loud in the silent hut. Stoick stared at her. Astrid was a ferocious warrior and she loved the boy. They had only just married and Hiccup had done everything he could to secure her safety and her future: by saving Stoick, he had saved her as well. But it suddenly didn't matter because Hiccup was enslaved once more..being tormented once more.

"We have to get him back!" she said angrily. Stoick shook his head. "Sir- we can't leave him there! They'll kill him!"

"After Dagur shot Toothless and I down, I heard him screaming and screaming, like a wounded animal," he groaned. "And then...and then the scream just...stopped." Gobber bowed his head. "He's dead."

"No..." she whispered, tears shining in her eyes. "No!" she repeated, her fists clenching. "Dagur wouldn't go to all that effort to just kill him. He always wanted Hiccup to suffer. That's why he shot you down. They will have knocked him out. He has to be alive!" Stoick shook his head. He couldn't get the scream out of his head: it was the dying howl of a mortally wounded creature. He knew his son was gone. But...

"They tried to kill me," he said angrily. "Prepare the ships. Assemble the Academy. We sail to Outcast Island and we kill Dagur!"


	38. He's Not Dead

Savage left orders for Hiccup to be worked hard, driven harder and not touched. Though the Outcast Chief knew of Dagur's orders, he realised that his men would exercise no restraint and would probably kill the boy, and though he would not have mourned Hiccup's death, he did not want to be executed by Dagur for allowing the boy to die. And, of course, there was always the added bonus of abusing the boy himself. Hiccup had caused far more trouble than would be imagined possible for such a skinny little runt and Savage wanted to make sure the boy suffered for his actions.

Mildew was sent to retrieve Hiccup and the old man stared down on the beaten shape in the huge, stained tunic. He opened the cell and poked the slumped shape with his staff.

"Well, never thought I'd see yer back 'ere, 'Iccup," the old man sneered. "Thought yer were brighter than that!" The boy didn't even respond so Mildew nudged him hard with his staff again.

"I surrendered to save my father," Hiccup said tonelessly. "Dagur lied. He killed them." The old man froze and his eyes widened.

"Stoick's dead?" he breathed. Hiccup looked up, his eyes filled with loathing.

"Congratulations. You-you got what you wanted. Dad's dead and I am disowned, Snotlout and Spitelout are running Berk and that means we're doomed." His tone was bitter.

"You can't blame me for this, 'Iccup!" Mildew said slimily. "I didn't betray the village with a reptile!"

"You chose Alvin. Same difference," the boy shot back. Mildew glared at him.

"I 'eard you were broken, boy, but your smart mouth don't seem to 'ave improved!" he snarled.

"So beat me. I-I don't care." The last words were suddenly weary and the old man saw the shoulders slump. Mildew leaned close.

"You care enough still," he realised. "You hate what they do to you. You defied Dagur but you finally got him to cast you aside. Maybe you are brighter than you look."

"You would know," Hiccup muttered, suddenly drunk on despair. "Dagur is easily bored. He doesn't really want sex for love or anything like that: no, he wants to see me struggle and beg and scream in pain. He's a sadist more than anything. But I don't care. They're gone."

"Stoick?"

"And Toothless. No one on Berk wants me. So there's no point now in struggling." I'm so sorry, Astrid.

"Awww. Pining for your little lizard? Missing Daddy?" Mildew taunted him. Hiccup dropped his head. He blinked hard.

"Go 'way," he murmured painfully. Mildew grabbed his arm and wrenched the boy to his feet.

"You got a job, slave!" he sneered, dragging the boy through the door. "You're no longer Dagur's precious little pet. You're just a one-legged runt of a boy and if you don't work hard enough, I'll be watching them whip you to shreds!" Hiccup gave a little swallow, but said nothing, his head down and shoulders slumped as they headed outside. Mildew shoved him forward, trying calculate what to do. Stoick and he had clashed numerous times-that was no secret-but he had been a fine and strong Chief. His only fault, in fact, had been to indulge his weak, strange and useless son, who should have been cast out to sea at birth to perish.

The boy was looking more cowed than Mildew could recall seeing. His sass mouth had gone and the tone of his voice indicated weary acceptance of his doomed fate. The boy had suffered more than Mildew had guessed he could endure and he still faced Savage's very dubious mercy. He nudged the boy with his staff and drove him on. He not sure the next assignment would be to Hiccup's taste either. And then they arrived at the dragon pens. Hiccup glanced up and stiffened.

"Oh no," he said, backing away. "I'm still not training your dragons!" Mildew slammed him with his staff and he staggered.

"You're going to be cleaning out the pens so either they eat yer alive, boy, or yer 'ave to train 'em a bit!" Mildew taunted him. His job had been looking after the dragons and he hated it: it had been his idea to recruit Hiccup to the job. There were small risks which was why Mildew and a group of Outcast guards would be watching the boy. Hiccup stared up as he was thrust into the Whispering Death cage and he winced. These were one of the species he had problems with. The last close encounter with a Whispering Death had not gone well: it had a grudge with Toothless and Hiccup smelled strongly of Night Fury. But Hiccup could see the plentiful piles of fluorescent green dragon dung and knew he either tried to clean them up or faced a whipping. So he cautiously walked forward and slowly extended his left hand gently.

"Erm...easy, girl..." he murmured. The dragon hissed and he froze, then very slowly inched forward, his hand slowly moving towards the dragon's spiny snout. He glanced down and then allowed the dragon to sniff him. There was a pause and then the whited out eyes narrowed and it roared. Hiccup flinched and snatched his hand back as teeth crashed together where his hand had been. He ducked as the dragon spun round and its spiky whip tail slashed out. He ducked down and instinctively raised his arms to protect his face. And then he screamed as the tail sliced his left arm open, blood bursting from the wound. He cried out and scrambled away.

The dragon gave a furious roar and whipped its ferocious tail over Hiccup's head, but he ducked and avoided having his neck slashed open too. He grabbed the laceration and as he glanced up, his hand tightening on the oozing slash, the sickening feel of his own blood warm and slick under his skin. He squeezed tighter, ignoring the hot pain he caused and felt the flow diminish. And his green eyes saw the frightened dragon huddle back in the far corner, the paler scars on her body and flanks and pathetic testimony to the treatment she had endured.

Odin, he knew how she felt.

Crouching low, he rent a strip from his over-large and horrible tunic and determinedly wound it round the wound, then tied it tight. He hissed gently and half-turned to the guards and Mildew.

"Was it Alvin or Savage who whipped this dragon?" he asked in a low, angry voice.

"Does it matter, 'Iccup?" Mildew sneered back. Hiccup's fists tightened.

"You know dragon training is all about trust," he said tightly. "I was just wondering which person thought that hurting dragons say, by whipping them, would help them to trust you?"

"They became wilder after Alvin...left..." Mildew sneered. The boy stiffened.

Figures. Savage by name... Then he walked slowly forward, still watching the spooked dragon.

"Easy, girl," he murmured. Then he half-turned and flipped up his over-large tunic. His lashes showed angry red in the dull light and the dragon sniffed: the smell of blood was obvious. Slowly it uncoiled and slithered closer as Hiccup remained still, allowing the dangerous beast to sniff his lacerated back. Then, still looking down, he extended his hand again. The Whispering Death paused, then pressed her snout into his hand. He breathed a sigh of relief and glanced up. She gave a slight press and then skittered away, very nervous. He sighed and let his tunic drop. At least he could tackle the dung with less probability of being killed.

Wearily, he grabbed his shovel and a barrow and began cleaning up, removing the dung from amid the multitude of eggs that littered the cage. Mildew narrowed his eyes and thought hard. The boy was certainly looking to all intents and purposes as if he was broken but there was the occasional flash of Hiccup, the odd smart comment or show of self preservation. Mildew guessed he was a fraction from breaking, with only the smallest cruelty or torture needed to end him. He shuddered. There was nothing he could do and he was angry at his own thoughts. But Mildew was a traditionalist and he was looking at the rightful Chief of Berk. A treacherous part of him reminded him that this wasn't right-but the greater part of him reminded himself that Hiccup had brought this on himself and he had earned every second of his punishment.

oOo

There was a lot of shouting in Berk-not, helped, it had to be said, by the twins who loved stirring up trouble. The villagers, though they loved a good fight, were less than enthusiastic at attacking Outcast Island. They were furious at the attack on their Chief but there was a lot less interest in rescuing his sometime son. Stoick had stood before his ambivalent villagers and faced them without hesitation, knowing this was the most important speech of his life.

"I know many of you are not sure exactly what happened and why I demand this attack," he shouted, his voice commanding. He had been born to be Chief, raised as a future Chief and had never doubted himself for a moment. His eyes swept over his people-he was asking a lot of them, but no more than he asked of himself. His fist clenched.

"We must sail to Outcast Island," he announced. "Dagur has gone too far. First, he lured Lars into treachery and he framed my own son for his treason. My son, Hiccup, was condemned and cast out wrongfully, expelled from his tribe when he was wholly innocent."

The mutters silenced and all eyes inspected the chief carefully.

"My son-my only child and heir, was sent to the Outcasts," he said gruffly, his eyes bright with his shame. "He was beaten and tormented and given to Dagur as a slave." Murmurs started. "Yes, he was enslaved and yes, he was raped by Dagur," Stoick announced angrily. "And none of that was his fault. We did that to him, sent a boy to survive in the hands of men who wanted him broken or dead. When he was brought back, he warned me of Lars treason in time and almost paid with his life. I ensured he was able to stay."

"You bought him!"

"Slave!"

"Slut!"

"SILENCE!" Stoick roared. "Yes, I paid coin because it offered an easy solution to an uncomfortable situation and I wanted Dagur gone. I regret that as well-because Hiccup was set free the moment he stayed here. He is my son and I will not have slavery in this village. But he was treated badly by many people here because I paid for his freedom and they too easily forgot all the help he offered to them. And how he saved us all-before when he defeated the Red Death and now, when he warned us about the Armada and led the Riders who destroyed it."

There was the embarrassed shuffling of feet and a number of eyes inspecting the ground furiously.

"Dagur attacked us again, as we knew he would. His armada attacked under the cover of the storm but the dragons saw him and drove them back. But I was shot down and Dagur was about to execute me, there and then, when Hiccup saw my predicament." The Chief paused. "He flew down and offered himself in exchange. He made Dagur promise to release me on Toothless."

"Traitor! Returning to his master!"

"No," Stoick said in a gruff voice. "If he had been a traitor, he would've just watched them kill me and left with his dragon with them. He would have gone willingly. But he was trembling and his eyes showed just how much he feared the man. And he went through it anyway to save his Chief. But Dagur lied and we were shot down anyway. And we heard Hiccup howling with anguish. It sounded like a dying creature...and then the screams just...stopped." He bowed his head. "My son, my beloved, brave and loyal son, who sacrificed himself for me and the village that wronged him so badly, is dead." His huge hands clenched into fists. "So we sail to Outcast Island. We sail to avenge Berk's Chief but more, we sail to avenge my son. To War!"

And the cheers and roars of agreement echoed throughout the village.

oOo

"He's not dead." Astrid's voice was loud and firm in the Arena as the other teens sat around, preparing for the battle. Fishlegs looked up and frowned.

"Didn't you hear the Chief?" he asked. "He heard Hiccup die. So did Toothless!"

"And I don't buy it!" she argued, her thumb unconsciously rubbing over the gold of her wedding ring. "Dagur had tormented Hiccup for so long. He won't get him back just to kill him straight away. If he wanted to do that, he would have shot him down the moment he landed for the exchange! He has to be alive."

"And in big trouble," Snotlout commented. He frowned and loaded a few more weapons on Hookfang. He wasn't sure what to make of it. If Hiccup returned, would he replace Snotlout as heir? But did he really want to steal Hiccup's birthright when the boy was innocent? Was that fair to his skinny, dorky, clever cousin? Before the dragons, Snotlout would have happily beaten Hiccup to a bloody pulp just for the fun of it but now, he appreciated that his cousin was different. Still clumsy and weak but he was brave, a great leader (though Snotlout would die before admitting that to anyone) and cared for the other teens. He was their friend. And the gig of Chief wasn't as cool as advertised by his own Dad. It seemed to involve a lot more work and listening to other people and much less lording it over the people and making bold decisions.

"So we go behind the Chief's back?" Tuffnut asked hopefully. Astrid brandished her axe thoughtfully.

"Not quite," she said determinedly. "But we will be in on the mission and we have to look out for Hiccup. If he is alive, he will desperately need to be rescued." They all nodded, thinking back to how beaten and battered their friend had looked after his last visit to Outcast Island.

"I'll break their faces with my face!" Snotlout announced. "He doesn't deserve it. He would never leave Toothless." Astrid nodded and blinked. She felt a weight lift from her chest.

"Thanks," she said. "We don't want to leave him there. We have to get him back!"


	39. A blessing and a curse

The long day tending the dragons was both a blessing and a curse for Hiccup. His love of dragons meant the time spent cleaning pens and shovelling dung was probably the best he had spent in Dagur's clutches. Sure the work was very heavy, smelly and exhausting but it meant that Hiccup could spend time with the dragons he loved and use the knowledge he possessed to protect himself and help calm and soothe the poor incarcerated beasts. But at the same time, every moment was a torment as well, because it reminded him of his best friend, Toothless. He paused and had to calm his breathing, the aching pain in his chest almost overwhelming him. He leaned hard on his shovel and winced.

"Get back ter work!" Mildew sneered. The boy glanced up and wearily pushed himself upright, digging his shovel into the last pile of dragon dung. It was after sunset but Mildew had been determined that the boy complete his task. The old man watched him tip the last barrow of dung away and ensure there was enough water for the skinny little Nadder he had petted kindly. Hiccup brushed the hair off his face and gently scratched the dragon's chin. It purred softly and rubbed against his sore shoulder.

"Easy, girl," he murmured softly and ghosted a tiny smile before turning away.

Mildew drove him back to his cell, slapping the boy hard with his staff. "Remember yer place!" he snarled.

"Unlikely to forget that," he murmured, wincing. Mildew gave a scowl and hit him again, driving him on. He groaned and limped back towards his cell. He was given dried fish and bread and just enough water to stay alive. Chewing slowly, he watched with wary eyes as the old man turned on his heel and wandered off, murmuring that he needed to check on his Fungus, his sheep. Hiccup had always found the man's attachment to a sheep creepy but then he found Mildew overall creepy. He shrugged and rested back against the wall of his cell. There were patches of rusty staining on the floor that he knew were his blood and he swallowed slowly.

He was exhausted and very sore, but he didn't want to sleep because he was afraid that if he closed his eyes, he would see that horrific moment again where his father and his dragon fell from the sky into the icy waves. And never resurfaced.

He pressed his fists to his face. He had managed a few hours without the unbearable torment of his memory but now he was alone, everything came back. His eyes were burning as he remembered that first meeting, the sleek shape of the black dragon tangled in the bola he had shot and the pained, despondent look in its eyes, the fear of death that he could understand so well. He recalled the way Toothless had spared his life and been as interested in him as well as he was in the dragon.

He pressed his fists harder against his eyes. It was too vivid, too real. And it hurt. That first touch, the unexpectedly soft skin of the Night Fury's muzzle and the warm huff of his breath on Hiccup's head. And the never ending joy of flying, of loyalty, of companionship. Toothless was his brother, his best friend, his confidante, his protector, his conscience and his constant companion. Tears streaked his face and he felt his chest tighten unbearably. He fought to breathe, fought to push back the pain but he could only curl up as soundless sobs shuddered through his abused shape.

"What's the matter, boy? Accommodation not to your liking?" The snide voice sent shudders down his spine and he stiffened involuntarily. He said nothing as Savage opened the door to his cell and walked menacingly in. He swallowed quietly, his breathing accelerating. The outcast fisted his hair and dragged his face up.

"Missing daddy?" he sneered. Hiccup forced his face calm and blinked his misty green eyes.

"You're gonna pay for killing him," he said evenly, expecting the vicious backhand the words earned him. He tasted blood but lifted his accusing green glare back to his tormentor. Savage jerked his head cruelly up.

"I heard you were a bit more sassy still than I was led to believe," he breathed. "Should we tell Dagur?" Hiccup stared flatly.

"Your choice," he said slightly insolently and earned another blow. His head was spinning now.

"When you're sent to clean up dragon dung, you do as you're told and don't go smart-mouthing to the guards," Savage snarled and hauled the boy up roughly. Hiccup closed his hands on the man's arm to try to ease the ferocious pressure on his scalp.

"They don't deserve to be whipped," he told the Outcast shortly.

"You don't tell me what anyone deserves," Savage snarled. Hiccup gave a mirthless laugh.

"You and Dagur deserve to die screaming," Hiccup said tonelessly, not caring how Savage reacted. But he still flinched as he was thrown furiously across the cell, his scrawny body slamming hard against the stone floor. He landed hard on his branded shoulder and hissed in pain. Then he instinctively curled up as Savage leaned over him, his fist cocked to hammer into the huddled shape. Hiccup felt his head hauled up and saw the fist swing round. His head impacted back against the wall and he slithered bonelessly to the floor, his vision smeared with red stars and feeling blood running from his cheek. He threw his arms over his head as kicks slammed into his beaten shape. He wondered if Savage would kill him this time.

But abruptly, the Outcast left, slamming the door and leaving Hiccup curled in a puddle of his own blood, his rasping, pained breathing harsh in the silent cell. He curled up tighter, his eyes screwed tightly shut and head spinning with a concussion. He would endure every beating they could dish out if he thought it would bring his friend back. But it didn't stop the tears flowing unchecked and his mouth moving in a silent prayer.

"Toothless..."

oOo

Day brought no relief. He was hauled from his cell early, barely able to stagger to his feet after the beating the previous night and driven fiercely back to the dragon pens. He stared blearily up at a ferocious Monstrous Nightmare and gave a deep sigh that jabbed pain through his cracked ribs. He glanced up at Mildew and gave a weary smile.

"Dragon dung duty, right?" he murmured. The old man stared at him and nodded.

"Yer 'ad ter cheek Savage, didn't yer?" he scorned him. Hiccup rested a hand wearily against the bars and took a shuddering breath.

"He was always going to beat me, from the moment he entered the cell," he murmured painfully.

"You had to sass him," Mildew reminded him. Hiccup grabbed his shovel.

"What do you care?" he shot back bitterly.

"Why don't you?" Mildew asked him. "Yer the rightful Chief of Berk. Why aren't yer fighting to get out of 'ere and back 'ome?" Hiccup stiffened.

"I lost everything when I was cast out," he said through his teeth. "Including my position as Heir. Dagur made me a slave. He made me his...object. No knew will forgive that, no matter what my Dad says. Said." The old man glared.

"If yer a slave, then put yer back into it!" he snapped and swatted Hiccup with his staff. The boy flinched and turned to his work, carefully calming the agitated dragon. The Monstrous Nightmare flattened his wings, his violent yellow eyes narrow with anger and fear. Hiccup could see the poor beast's wings were shredded, hopelessly beyond all remedy.

A downed dragon is a dead dragon. And he knows it. He offered his hand and the dragon sniffed it. Hiccup had nearly been killed twice in quick succession by Nightmares: once on the night he shot down Toothless and the other in his final exam. But he had a good relationship with Hookfang, Snotlout's dragon and he was comfortable handling Monstrous Nightmares now. The dragon gave him an obedient rub and he petted the dragon for a long moment before heading for the piles of dung. The work was long and tiring, his battered shape screaming with pain at the demands he was putting on it. When he slowed, the guards eagerly whipped him and he endured silently, his eyes screwed closed.

His lunch was withheld and he wearily swallowed the water he was given, sliding down to his haunches and breathing heavily. The afternoon was no better, a train of hard toil and danger. Even the company of the frightened, wounded dragons was little compensation and just worsened his pain. Every second, he missed Toothless. And that night, Savage visited him again in his cell, taunting him, beating him almost senseless and raping him once more.

The following morning was even worse, his battered shape stiff. His lower body was exquisitely painful and walking really hurt. Savage's treatment was as bad as Dagur-probably worse, he admitted silently, for he took no care to ensure the boy was in any shape to continue his servitude. And he was back with the dragons he had tended on the first day and those he could not tend. Hiccup wasn't stupid and the Scauldron was far too wild for him to train and he flatly refused to enter the cage, earning him a handful of lashes. Likewise the Changewing, which Hiccup was certain he couldn't train. He had tried to train one, once and the dragon had managed to hypnotise him into doing some very crazy things. His friends had cared for him then until he snapped out of the trance: he couldn't hazard making himself so vulnerable here and he accepted the lashes silently.

He paused by the Whispering Death and frowned. The dragon was female and he peered closer: the markings on the eggs were very similar to those he had found under Berk when the Whispering Deaths had popped up in the village…followed by the Screaming Death. He paused and turned to Mildew.

"Mildew?" he murmured. "Um…you know those eggs you left under Berk?"

"What about it, 'Iccup?" He took a deep breath.

"Did they come from this Whispering Death?"

"Why d'yer ask?" the old man sneered. Hiccup hunched as the staff moved menacingly.

"Um…including a large red egg?" he asked. Mildew paused thoughtfully.

"Yeah," he muttered. "I wonder 'ow that turned out…"

"Um…big…" Hiccup revealed as the old man swatted at him with his staff and the skinny boy turned back to his work. But a thought crystallised in his mind. This beaten dragon was the mother of the Screaming Death…and the dragon was destroying islands looking for something… He forked some dung aside to give himself time to think and visualised his map of the archipelago and the route of the Screaming Death. It had been heading towards Berk via Dragon Island…but if you extrapolated the line beyond Berk…you ended up…here. He stared at the dragon again. And then it struck him. He was in the cage with the answer. The only problem was, there was no one to give it to…

He knew he was flagging and he wearily moved into a new cell, his spirits treacherously low from findings the answer to the conundrum they had wrestled with for so long but findings himself unable to use it. The cell contained a copper coloured Nadder, frightened and agitated. She was dancing around, her spines raised and he had to duck a warning volley before he could even inspect her to guess her wounds. One eye was blinded and a wing was broken and stiff, making her unable to fly. He felt a surge of anger again at the pain these dragons had suffered. He had been treated badly as well but he had some small intrinsic worth: the dragons didn't seem to have any.

He shivered. A storm was coming, the clouds low and brushing the hills of Outcast Island, skeins of fog and mist curling through the village. He frowned as he heard thuds and shouts and then he stiffened. There was a rhythm to the sounds that was horribly familiar. Catapults.

Outcast Island was under attack. Hiccup stared in shock. Who would attack the Berserkers and Outcasts? And then he knew as he heard screeches above him. His head snapped up and he peered into the low cloud as shapes zipped over with purpose. Dragons!

The Hooligans were attacking. He swallowed. They had to be trying to avenge his father and he hoped and prayed that Snotlout wouldn't get half the island killed in a stupid badly thought-out plan. Roars sounded overhead and he knew the riders had to be in on the act. Astrid would be there: she would make sure they were safe.

And then the familiar whistling whine zipped overhead and he spun, his breath freezing in his throat. It was the sound of a Night Fury. Toothless! He was alive!

Bud, I'm so sorry I doubted you. I'm so sorry I gave up. I know you never did. Please...don't leave me behind...

And he ran from the cage as the shout went up: "We're under attack! Hooligans!"


	40. Dagur will never let me go

The shout went up: "We're under attack! Hooligans!"

His guards scattered, all heading to defend themselves against the invaders. Berserkers were already swarming at the docks and heading for the ships but the Berk fleet was pounding the moored vessels with catapults. The roars and explosions sounded like the riders had already joined the fray, annihilating ships and preventing them engaging the Berkian fleet. Hiccup stared in the clouds and then ran for the main hall, knowing his friends would go after Dagur.

And then a huge hand grabbed him and snared him. He cried out and was spun-to face the guard who had overseen his first day working as a slave. He cringed inwardly as the man eyed him lustfully and started hauling him back to the sentries' hut. He recalled what the man had wanted and how he had feared the act. And still did.

He struggled fiercely but he was as successful as he had been the last time. He was inexorably hauled away from the Hall, away from the riders and the attacking Berkians and every chance they may find him and take him home.

It's not fair. NOT FAIR! They'll never find me trapped in this hut with this guard. Oh Thor, oh Odin, please let me get away from him. Please let me get back to Toothless!

Or kill me if I have to stay here.

Writhing and bucking, he was thrown bodily into the hut, a tiny space dimly lit by light streaking in through the gaps in the walls. He stumbled back into the tiny space, filled with a small, low table, two stools and a few discarded weapons. And the guard, blocking the only entrance. He breathed hard. The man had planned his abuse, had cornered him at last. He flinched, his throat tightening with fear. All of a sudden, with Toothless alive, he had something to lose. Hope was a treacherous friend, clutching his stomach with terror that his friend would leave and never know he was still alive. He swallowed and gazed fearfully at the guard.

"Please," he whispered hoarsely. "Please don't..."

"Why so coy, boy?" the guard sneered. "You've been Dagur's and Savage's whore. Why not mine?"

"No."

Please, gods-no. Don't let the rest of my life be a round of servicing any man on Outcast Island who's horny, knowing it cost me my last chance to see Toothless...

The guard grabbed at him and he struggled, but the man slammed him into the table. He thrashed out and whimpered as his hands desperately sought any sort of weapon against the huge guard. He was thrown onto his face and his fingers brushed against the wooden handle of a weapon. He gasped as he was jerked as the man hauled on his clothing. He could see the handle, just out of reach as he fought against the assault. It was by his left hand, his stronger dominant hand. He knew he was useless and could barely lift a hammer or an axe.

But he had attacked and beaten Dagur. He would have killed him, if his men hadn't intervened.

Okay, for Toothless...

But this was going to hurt. He had to surrender, to stop pushing fiercely against the table to keep the man off him. He had to let the man think he had what he wanted. He angled his body as he gritted his teeth to muffle any cries. And then he ceased resisting as the guard lunged at him. The impact slammed him across the table as he had hoped and he almost choked on the scream, his chest skinned by the impact and broken ribs jarred as the guard held him still. His hand flailed wildly and closed on the wooden handle. His head arched back on agony as the guard forced himself forward, his hands digging painfully into Hiccup's shoulder as he prepared to start, to abuse him once more. The boy swallowed a sob and put all his strength into a clumsy swing of the rusty mace in his hand. The weapon swung round and slammed into the guard's head.

The man cried out and the pressure on Hiccup's back vanished. He curled away and slumped to the floor, hugging his arms briefly around his battered body. The threat of the assault and the horror of his capture was still shuddering throughout his form. But the man was stirring. Heedless of his injuries, the boy tightened both hands around the mace and swung again, catching the guard with a much more hefty blow across the helmet and head as he slumped back, stunned. Hiccup dropped the mace and scrambled to his feet, reassembling his clothing as best he could. He wrenched the door open, glancing fearfully over his shoulder as the guard stirred, then ran for it,

His broken ribs stabbed fire every time he gasped for breath as he sprinted across the uneven yard, heading for the main building. The Night Fury whine sounded overhead again and he paused, then tipped back his head and gave his Night Fury roar.

"Hang on, bud," he murmured grimly. "Wait for me!" And then he stumbled on, his senses sharpened as he heard the shout of the guard. He ignored his pains and accelerated. His stump was jabbing pain with every step, his back was really sore and his shoulder was pulling like mad. He could barely breathe. Men were running around and no one was paying any attention to the small ragged shape with the shaggy auburn hair and the bruised, gaunt face. Hiccup dragged the door open and ran into the building. And then he paused.

There were the sounds of fighting and roars coming from his left and he guessed that the attack was coming that way, Dagur didn't use dragons-except his still frozen Skrill-so they had to be his friends. And he was running towards the man who kidnapped, framed, tortured and enslaved him. He shook his head and turned to run-and then a hand snagged his arm and he cried out as the guard dragged him close. His eyes looked fit to kill and his face was smeared with blood from the blow Hiccup had given him. Hiccup gave a gasp of pain as the man closed his hands around the boy's throat.

Hiccup scrabbled helplessly at the hands, unable to take the smallest gasp of air. He kicked and clawed but to no avail. His vision was starting to grey and he felt his heart shudder with grief. He was going to die here, mere yards from his best friend, who would find his corpse too late. He felt his body start to go limp and his hands fell away as his vision faded.

And then he hit the floor, not dead but definitely feeling like he was more than halfway there. His eyelids fluttered and he saw Mildew lean over and hit the guard again with his staff. He tenderly held his throat, staring up warily at the old man. Mildew glared at him.

"What yer waiting for, 'Iccup?" he said sharply. "Go on!" The boy staggered painfully to his feet and stumbled in the direction of Dagur's Hall. Mildew stared after him and scowled. He could always argue that he was merely obeying Dagur's orders and preventing Hiccup being killed but that wasn't the truth. Well, not the whole truth. Mildew was certain that any execution would involve him, since he knew that Dagur loathed him as much as almost everyone else. But he had saved Hiccup because though he felt the boy deserved beating and whipping and slavery, the sexual abuse he had suffered had felt wrong. Mildew was a very traditional Viking and the Berkian way did not include rape and sexual slavery. He watched the boy run away and turned away with a small smile. All in all, his Chief would be pleased.

The roars and explosions were definitely louder. The twins, Hiccup thought randomly. He was struggling to breathe and his head was spinning. He hoped his tribe was winning. And then he ran heedlessly into the hall-to be grabbed by Dagur the Deranged.

The Berserker Chief was raging, his face beaded with spittle and pale green eyes flat and deadly. He fashioned an incredibly menacing smile as he recognised his slave.

"BROTHER!" he cried and stroked the boy's face. Hiccup shuddered and instinctively struggled. "Ooh-feisty still." His voice and face suddenly lost any humour and he appeared terrifying and violent. "You were FAKING! You devious little runt! I'll have to punish you for that...won't that be fun?"

"When Hel freezes over!" Hiccup gasped as Dagur dragged him close and nuzzled the back of his neck. The boy shuddered and tried to pull away.

"Why this sudden burst of resistance?" the Berserker murmured. "You gave up a few days ago. But now you're back." He bit Hiccup's ear lobe and the boy yelped. "And I'm going to fuck you rigid, you wretched whore! Did you think they came for you? Why would they come for a useless runt who's my body slave? My bed slave? You're mine, Hiccup-and you'll die only when I command it!" He rubbed his groin against the boy's lower back and Hiccup could feel the Berserker's rising excitement.

"Never," Hiccup whispered as he struggled desperately. Dagur's hand tightened on his shoulder and the other was sliding down inside his pants, the fingers clawing at his flesh. His throat bobbed in nausea and he felt the erection jab into his back once more. And then the wall exploded and the roar announced the arrival of dragons.

Hiccup felt his heart jump into his throat, a sudden surge of hope filling him with anxiety. He had something to lose now and the fact that Dagur jerked him close against him, his knife abruptly digging hard into Hiccup's skinny throat, made him scared. The boy froze as three dragons paced forward through the billowing smoke. To the right was Hookfang with Snotlout perched on board, his fists tight around the Nightmare's horns. To the left was Stormfly with Gustav and Gobber, both looking determined. And in the centre, the sleek black shape of Toothless was stalking forward, his eyes narrowed to slits, his wings half furled and mouth open with plasma glowing in his throat. Astrid sat on his back, her axe tight in her fist. Hiccup froze at the sight of his dragon, his green eyes suddenly wide with hope and his heart leapt as well at the sight of Astrid-alive and real.

"Toothless.." he gasped as the blade bit into his throat. A line of fire ran across his skin and he felt the sickening sticky warmth of blood on his skin. He almost dared not breathe.

"Hold!" Dagur snarled. "Unless you want to watch me slice up this little runt in front of you!" They all peered at the ragged shape, the dishevelled auburn hair, frightened green eyes and missing left lower leg telling them exactly who was at risk. Toothless gave a ferocious roar. They all stopped and Astrid frowned.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Dagur jerked the boy back, grinding his hips obscenely against Hiccup.

"I want the Night Fury for the boy!" he snarled. "Or you can watch me slice him from ear to ear!"

"No!" Hiccup moaned and stared at his dragon. Astrid glared at the Berserker.

"Release him!" she commanded. Hiccup felt the man tense behind him and he stared into Toothless's wide green eyes. He knew what he had to do: Dagur had to be stopped. His father had to be avenged. And Dagur would never let him go anyway.

Do it, bud. I'm sorry...

He slammed his metal leg into Dagur's knee and felt the knife immediately cut into his throat. But as he pulled away, the Night Fury fired a small but accurate blast that spun the Berserker away, the bloody knife in his hand. Hiccup slammed to the floor, scarlet blood oozing from his throat. Toothless fired a far larger blast that threw Dagur and his men away from the sprawled boy. Hookfang joined in, his flames spraying around the boy and keeping any hostile Vikings back.

Hiccup stared up, feeling blood on his chest. His blinked as the dark shape of his dragon loomed over him and he fashioned a weary smile. "Bud..." he breathed painfully, raising a bloody hand to touch the soft muzzle. Toothless was crooning worriedly as another shape leaned over him. It was Astrid. He blinked slowly. Astrid was crying? Over him?

"Oh gods," she said, staring at him and her hands pressed over his cut throat. "Gobber!"

"Don'... cry..." he breathed. Then the lopsided staccato sound of the blacksmith's approach had him looking up at his boss and he tried to smile. The old blacksmith looked stricken.

"He's bleeding badly!" Astrid said, her grip firm. "Hiccup-stay with me. Don't you dare give up now!" Gobber peered at the wound and then pressed her hands back.

"He's missed all the big veins but you're right," he said, frowning.

"Can't we bind it?" she asked, her voice thick with emotion.

"You'd strangle him!" Gobber told her gently. "It has to be attended now or he won't make Berk." Her eyes shone with more tears.

"How...how...?" she asked, her hands pressing harder. Gobber cast around and found the fire. He paused, then shoved his dagger in. Hiccup stroked Toothless.

"Sorry..." he gasped. His throat was amazingly painful and he was starting to feel dizzy. Astrid looked down on his battered face and her eyes flashed with anger.

"Stop apologising!" she said to him, her face distraught. "This wasn't your fault. None of it! You gave yourself up for the Chief! You never asked for any of this!"

"But I left you…" he breathed painfully, his eyes inspecting her face. She fashioned an understanding smile.

"I know why," she said. "And I forgive you. Now stay with me, husband. You don't escape me that easily…"

"Tired..." he whispered as Gobber walked back, a dully glowing knife in his hand. He shook his head pitifully and gave a low groan. "Please...no..." he whimpered.

"Hold him down!" Gobber commanded and Astrid began to cry again, thought her hands remained steady on his wound, stained red with his blood. Snotlout walked forward and stared down on him. Hiccup realised the other boy looked concerned before his strong hands clamped onto his shoulders and pressed him, helpless, into the floor. The blacksmith nodded to Astrid and she lifted her hands from the deep wound. Hiccup's throat bobbed and he stared up pleadingly. He shook his head as her hand found his and squeezed. His fingers felt her ring press against his grimy flesh. She pulled his hand against her chest, as she had that one night they had slept together as husband and wife.

"Please..." he breathed as the blacksmith delicately pressed the red-hot metal onto the wound. Hiccup screamed, the howl of agony echoing through the hall as the sizzle of flesh sounded. Neither Astrid not Snotlout could look but Hiccup felt Toothless still pressing against his other hand. And then Gobber moved away, though the appalling pain continued. He nodded.

"We need to get out of here!" he said and Astrid nodded. Hiccup felt himself lifted up, his head spinning. They put him on Toothless and he felt Astrid sit behind him, her feet finding the control pedal. Hiccup splayed his hands on the dragon's head and felt the dragon rumble beneath him.

"Le's...go...bud..." he rasped as Astrid hooked a hand around him, grasping the saddle edge with her other hand. She leaned forward.

"We'll be home soon, my love," she promised and he gave a weary nod.

"G'..." he breathed. His throat was burning and his vision was greying. He felt Toothless bunch his muscles under him and they leapt into the air. "Da'ur!" Astrid glanced over her shoulder and shook her head.

"I don't know!" she soothed him. "He was blasted away but I can't promise he's dead. We have to get you away: I always knew you were still alive but your father thought..."

"Da'?" he rasped. He suddenly felt weightless. "Ali'...?" She felt him stiffen.

"Of course!" she said and then she realised. "You thought...?" He nodded. "He thought you..." He winced.

"Almo'..." he breathed as they soared up. The dragons roared and banked and suddenly, Hiccup saw the upright shape on the blue Thunderdrum. The helmet and fiery hair were familiar and he felt his heart leap in relief as he stared. Stoick turned and saw the ragged shape on the Night Fury and his face twisted in surprise then lit with utter relief and joy.

"HICCUP! YOU'RE ALIVE!" he bellowed.

"Jus'..." the boy breathed and felt his head spin. Astrid was pressed against him, his dragon was beneath him and his Dad was hovering in front off him. And he was leaving Outcast Island. He gave a satisfied smile and finally he lost consciousness.


	41. I forgive you

"How is he doing?"

Stoick finally felt easier in answering the question that had plagued him for the five days since Hiccup had returned to Berk.

"He's on the mend," he answered gruffly, his eyes shadowing at the memory. For it had been a very hard few days. Hiccup he been unconscious when he was brought back and Gustav and Gobber had flown Gothi to attend the ashen shape that Stoick had tenderly laid in the bed-now moved back down to by the fire. He had almost wept at the battered and burnt shape of his son and had hugged Astrid as the Elder had tended him urgently. They had stripped him from the hideous oversized tunic to find the ragged remains of the one he had left Berk in underneath. Stoick had seen his son's injuries before he left so the horrible new wounds had taken him by surprise: the whip gashes, the bruises and lacerations and the cauterised cut across his throat. Gothi had left detailed instructions and Stoick, Gobber and Astrid had tended the patient diligently through the long days and nights.

Stoick had been on duty when the boy he finally woken. It has not been anything spectacular, just a little twitch as the boy struggled back to the light and his bleary green eyes had tentatively opened.

And then he had screamed. Really screamed, as hard as his damaged throat could manage. His neck was hard with the bruises of his attempted strangling and he had just managed a hoarse croak after he emptied his lungs into the shriek. Toothless had instantly come to his side, crooning in gentle distress at his rider crying in such pain. Hiccup was lying on his whipped back, bruises all over his gaunt frame. His hands clawed desperately at the memory he was fighting and tears streamed down his ashen cheeks. His eyes were wild with terror.

Then he had suddenly jerked himself onto his side, curling up into a tiny ball, sobs shuddering through him. Stoick stared in utter distress. He had known that Hiccup had thought both he and Toothless had been killed by Dagur and his heart ached for the terrible grief and loneliness that belief must have caused his son. The appalling wounds the boy he endured in the days since he had been taken back to Outcast Island only reminded the Chief how much the boy had suffered. So he did the only thing he could do: he took his only son in his arms and closed him in a protective embrace.

Somehow, the feel of his father instantly began to soothe the lost boy and he felt Hiccup bury his head against Stoick's vast chest. His small hands latched onto the leather tunic and he clung tightly to his father like a small animal. Stoick shifted onto the bed and settled down with his son snuggled in his arms. "You're safe now, son," he murmured gruffly as he felt Hiccup squirm into a comfortable position and fall asleep. Gently, he kissed the top of his son's head and settled down for the afternoon.

Hiccup awoke first, warm and conscious he was being held and completely disorientated. Fragments of memory swirled but none seemed to connect with his current situation. He stiffened, momentarily unsure if he was still in the clutches of Dagur and some sadistic torment of his but as he lifted his face, the pain in his throat hit him full on and he winced, biting hard on his lip to stifle a cry. Then memory did flood back and as he moved slightly, he glimpsed the vast expanse of fiery red braided beard and knew he was in his father's arms. He gave a slight sigh: he hadn't slept in his arms since he was a small child but just now, it felt kinda nice and really safe.

He was aware he was naked save a fur blanket and his arm was getting a cramp so he cautiously shifted. His back still stung and his whole neck felt horribly stiff but he wriggled slightly and Stoick stirred. The Chief opened his eyes and automatically stared down into the bright green eyes of his son.

"Hiccup! How are you feeling, son?" he boomed. The boy fashioned a crooked smile, his face still lividly marked with welts and bruises.

"Hey, Dad," he rasped, wincing and gently feeling his throat. They had applied a very sticky poultice to his cauterised wound but it was still very painful. "Never better!" His father frowned though there was a proud glint in his eye at his son's courage. He gently lifted Hiccup onto the bed and the boy winced. Immediately, Toothless bounded up and nuzzled against his rider and Stoick felt his throat thicken at the look of pure joy on his battered son's face. Despite his injuries, the boy was hugging his friend fiercely and the Chief truly realised at that moment how awful it had been for Hiccup to be separated from his dragon.

"Toothless! You don't know how good to see you it is, bud!" Hiccup croaked, laughing as his eager dragon licked him. The boy rested his head against the dragon's muzzle and his voice became even more hoarse. "You have no idea how it felt to think I lost you," he murmured softly, closing his eyes and hugging the Night Fury fiercely. "And what I would have done, what I would have suffered to get you back!"

Stoick felt his throat thicken in anguish at his desolate tone. The boy loved his dragon above everything and he found himself gently laying a huge hand on the boy's scored shoulder. Hiccup lifted his shadowed green eyes and offered a slight, crooked smile. "And you, Dad," he added shyly. He sighed. "I-I thought you were both dead when I saw you fall. I felt as if time had stopped and my heart had been torn out of my chest. I attacked Dagur and I had him down! I wanted to die and I no longer cared because in the end, I knew I was the screw-up you all thought I was. I had given myself up to save you and he killed you both anyway. He killed the two people I loved most in the world and I could only watch. Beyond that, I didn't care what torture he put me through. I let him whip and beat and rape me because I deserved it. I deserved it."

Tears slid down his cheeks, his trembling hands tightening on Toothless's muzzle. His breaths were hitching in desperation as he confessed his utter surrender. He knew the cost of the admission: his father had to reject him now, banish the shamed boy from the tribe. He had condemned himself forever. He shook his head and pressed his eyes closed. Tears splashed onto the dragon's muzzle. Stoick gave a sigh and wrapped his arms around his son. Hiccup twisted and threw himself into his chest and sobbed against his father, overwhelmed by his shame and despair.

"I thought you were dead," Stoick murmured gruffly to the sobbing boy. "I heard you screaming on the ship after we escaped. And then suddenly, you stopped. I thought I had lost you. I wanted to kill Dagur for revenge for my lost son." He rested his chin in the boy's bowed head. "I love you, son. I know I have problems showing it. I know I haven't always been a good father. I haven't always been supportive. I have shouted you down, humiliated you, driven you to do crazy exploits to try to impress me. But I am proud of you, son. I know I am quick to judge and I wronged you, disbelieved you, forgot the most important thing: that you would never harm me. Please forgive me, son. Give me a second chance."

Hiccup raised his head, his tear-streaked face shocked. His green eyes widened in confusion.

"D-Dad?" he murmured. "I-I don't deserve you. Of-of course I forgive you. Because I don't deserve your forgiveness. I gave up. I let them do whatever they wanted. I only deserve to be his slave, his...his thing. I...I..." His voice cracked and he pressed his eyes closed. Stoick hugged him harder.

"Son, I forgive you," he assured the boy. "What happened doesn't matter-because you gave yourself up to save me. I could see how afraid you were. I heard the screams of your nightmares after you got back. I know you never wanted any of it-but you endured because you had to. And if it takes the rest of my life, I will make it right and see you restored as a Viking of Berk!"

oOo

He was clothed in one of Stoick's old tunics when Astrid arrived back from patrol, the sleeves rolled a long way up to expose his bruised wrists. He looked pallid and wary as he lay in the bed as she entered, brushing her hair off her eyes and flashing her heartstopping smile at the battered boy. He forced a smile onto his face, his green eyes sparkling with happiness at her arrival.

"Hey Astrid," he greeted her hoarsely, frowning at his painful voice.

"Hey," she responded, almost running forward and gently kneeling in the edge of his bed, leaning gently forward to brush a kiss on his lips. He stiffened before succumbing to a slightly goofy smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Surprisingly good," he rasped. "Could really get used to this. I should get my throat cut more often!" But his weak attempt at a joke fell flat as her face fell and she slumped onto the edge of the bed. She shook her head, her hand automatically finding his and lacing her fingers through his.

"I thought we'd lost you," she admitted painfully. "And we would, if not for a Toothless. That shot was amazing! But I...I thought I'd never get to remind you that you aren't alone. That I...I..." He tilted his head, examining her face and reading a blush that rivalled his own. They had spent many weeks travelling together, sleeping in the same bed and had even got married. Gods, he was married! How had he forgotten that? But she was still blushing at the challenge of expressing her feelings. Astrid had never been the best at emotional expressions-apart from a punch or two-and he felt a small surge of pride that even now, looking like something Toothless had trampled on for an hour, he could make her blush.

"Y-yes...?" he prompted her teasingly.

"Don't make me say it!" she warned though he could see a sparkle in her azure eyes.

"Say what?" he said innocently.

"Sweet Thor in a thunderstorm! I love you! Satisfied?"

"Oh yes," he said contentedly, laying back in his pillows. Then he yelped as she punched him-hard-in the shoulder.

"Ow! What?" he whimpered.

"That's for making me say it…husband…!" she snapped, then her face moved into a very sweet smile and she pressed another kiss onto his lips, the soft pressure like silk on his battered flesh. "You still look a dragon's chewed you up and spit you out!" she said thoughtfully after she broke away, a hand rising to run through his tangled and wild hair.

"Thank you, Milady, I feel so much better," he shot back dryly, his hand briefly resting against her cheek. He sighed. "Thanks so much for coming for me. I had given up. I mean really given up. I was just sleep-walking through every torment they inflicted until they finally killed me...and then I heard you fly over." His lips tilted slightly. "Until I heard Toothless. And then I suddenly realised there was something left to fight for. And ...I was suddenly scared that I would fall a few yards before I could get back to you all." Her eyes softened and she took his hand in both of hers, squeezing gently for reassurance, her cheeks still pink. "Is-is Dagur...?" She paused, her eyes pensive.

"I don't know," she admitted. "When Toothless blasted him away from you, we ran forward to get you. He sent a large blast at him and his men to drive them back so we could tend you. You were bleeding heavily and Gobber had to staunch the blood loss..." He winced and his fingers lightly slid over the poultice over his wound.

His screams as hot iron sizzled his flesh. The mark taking everything from him of value.

"I can still recall that," he said quietly, without humour. "So he's still alive?" She nodded.

"I guess it's likely," she admitted. "We had to get you away. He's certainly hurt but probably not dead." He swallowed. The knowledge that Dagur was still out there suddenly clutched his stomach with fear. The knowledge that one day, he could recapture Hiccup, could enslave him once more, force himself upon the boy once more... He shivered. Then she gently lifted a hand to lightly stroke the hard bruises on his neck.

"What happened?" she asked. He swallowed painfully, jerked from his horrible thoughts to an equally horrible memory.

"I...er...had a run -in with one of the guards who had promised to get his hands on me," he said slowly, giving Astrid the impression he was choosing his words carefully. A faint flush warmed the freckled cheeks as he struggled not to admit another attempted rape, another shameful mark against him that should rob him of the last shreds of her respect for him. "And after Dagur decided that I was no longer enough fun..." and he grimaced obviously, "I was given to the mercy of Savage and the Outcasts. They...weren't merciful. I was worked hard, beaten and starved and abused on a whim. And I was just focussed on surviving. When I heard Toothless fly over, I tried to get to the main hall...and that was when he grabbed me." He paused and bit his lips, his eyes fixing determinedly on the floor. She rested a hand in his cheek and felt him trembling.

"It's okay," she assured him but he shook his head.

"No," he whispered. "He was dragging me the wrong way. And I knew he wouldn't let me get to where you could rescue me. I had to make a choice to get away from him...and I attacked him before I ran. When he caught me, he decided I deserved to die." He winced. She stared at him and her brows dipped slightly.

"Hiccup? What happened?" she asked him softly. "What did they do to you?" He forced a crooked smile onto his face but his eyes were ashamed.

"Too much to forgive," he admitted. "I was managing being a dragon trainer and getting over being the worst Viking in the history of Berk, talking fishbone and runt. But now I'm not even a Viking but a possession, something bought and sold and abused as sport." He chewed his lip again. Astrid stared at the floor as well for a moment.

"No, Hiccup," she said quietly. "You are the son of the Chief, the boy who saved Berk from the Dragon menace and the Berserker invasion. You are the Head of the Dragon Academy and the Rider of Toothless the Night Fury. You are an honoured Hooligan of Berk. And you are my husband." His eyes flicked up in shock.

"Astrid…"

"While I am a dishonoured whore, cast out of my family for shaming them with you and only tolerated in Berk because you did marry me," she said quietly. "And even that has been spat at me in the village." She stared at the floor again. "They say I am not good enough for you. That I should be thrown out of the village…" He stared at her in shock and horror.

"Who?"

"My father," she admitted and his hand tightened around hers.

"But…you're Astrid Ho….Haddock," he said seriously, his voice cracking from the amount of talking he had done. "The best Viking on Berk. Shield Maiden. Seriously the scariest person with an axe I know. Deadly Nadder Rider. My wife and my love." He cast around and frowned as he looked at for his clothes. "Look, I'm the screw-up. Most of them still think I'm a traitor and a slave and Dagur's sex toy…"

"No," she told him gently. "You-you don't know what has happened since you left here, since the Armada was defeated." He stared up at her and frowned.

"Wh-what?" he rasped.

"When you were taken, your father made sure in no uncertain terms that he did not believe you would ever harm him, that you were wholly innocent and that the whole village had shamed him by treating you the way they did. That you had been abused because of Dagur's and Lars's treason and were a victim, not a criminal. And that you never failed to help anyone and that you had saved the island at least twice." Hiccup flushed.

"And how did that go?" he asked despondently.

"Um…they declared war on Outcast Island and invaded it to get you back," she reminded him. He blinked.

"Er…wow," he murmured.

"They also acknowledged that you are a Viking of Berk and the son of the Chief-and his Heir," she told him evenly. He blinked in shock and stared at her.

"But…what…how…Snotlout…?" he gaped. She kissed him on the lips to stop him gabbling. His voice was just a hoarse whisper now, almost gone.

"He was the one who insisted you were made the Heir again," she revealed, staring into his shocked face. "Look, he said that you never deserved to be punished for being framed, that you were a much better Heir than he would ever be and frankly, it all seemed like hard work!" She grinned at the last statement and Hiccup managed a lopsided smile.

"That's my cousin…" he said barely above a whisper. She turned and fetched him a large glass of water, along with a cup of dissolved herbs to keep his fever down and help him sleep. The light outside was definitely fading and the fire was warm. His eyes were starting to feel heavy and he was visibly trying to stay awake. She tutted and fussed, tucking a blanket around him.

"You, mister skinny, are exhausted," she told him tartly. "You need your rest if you're going to recover. And I want my husband back. I can't cope without all that raw Vikingness." He managed a weary smile and slid down in the bed. Then she busily shed her armour, her kransen, her boots and leather skirt and clambered into the bed next to him. His eyes popped wide in shock but she just smiled gently. "And I want to snuggle up with my husband." He rolled to face her.

"You deserve better," he rasped, pressing against her, his arm draping across her warm shape. She folded her arms around him.

"There is no one better than you," she reassured him, snuggling down and feeling him relax into her arms. They fidgeted into a comfortable position and her lips curled up as she heard his breathing slow and he drifted off to sleep in her arms. And once she was sure he was asleep and safe, her eyes closed of their own will and she was able to sleep too.


	42. Plans

Hiccup awoke snuggled in Astrid's arms, warm and relaxed. He blinked twice before the pain hit him: his whipped back, his broken ribs, the horrible constant burning from his cut throat, the bruises on his neck, the residual pains from his lower half…but he was home and with his wife and somehow, it wasn't so bad. But as his eyes focussed and his mind began finally to work again, he found himself slipping back to Outcast Island.

He clutched at her and his eyes closed tight. He felt her stir but he couldn't help that: the memories crashed into him again and all he could see was Dagur and Savage and the guard who had tried to rape him and… His eyes snapped open. The dragons. He felt Astrid stir against him, blinking and yawning at his fearful embrace but he was able to force his limbs to relax because he was safe with Astrid. He kept chanting the words in his mind, kept trying to remind his shocked and traumatised brain that he was home and Dagur was defeated again.

But not permanently.

His mind floated back to the dragon cages…and the scared and beaten Whispering Death. That a dragon could sympathise with his plight, with his horrible pain, that had been inflicted upon him by fellow Vikings had curiously made him feel ashamed to be human. She had been badly hurt as well and he knew she hadn't deserve her pain any more he had. In fact, there were more similarities between her and him than he had realised: he had lost his mother and that dragon's hatchlings had been taken from her and used as weapons against Berk.

And one of them was looking for her.

He gave Astrid a gentle shake and her vivid azure eyes fluttered open. His heart leapt as she smiled at him. He knew he looked like a beaten slave but that she was here, sleeping with her arms around him, made him feel like a King. She smiled.

"How are you feeling?" she murmured. He managed a pained smile.

"Never better, Milady," he rasped. His voice was awful, strained and whispery. He had overstretched it talking to her the previous evening. "I was thinking…" And she smiled, her eyebrow rising in a challenge.

"Oh dear," she said with a smirk. "Now we're in trouble…" He blinked and then sighed.

"Very serious," he rasped. "You know we found the Screaming Death?" She nodded, stretching. "I know what it's looking for." She frowned. "I found its mother…on Outcast Island. And if we can get it to go to her…"

"It will tear Outcast Island apart-and bring Dagur down!" Astrid said excitedly, sitting up abruptly. Hiccup slid off her and hit the bed with a bang. He groaned. She looked down-and her face slipped into a mask of apology. He winced and clutched his head.

"Ow. Aren't I bashed enough for you?" he whined. She kissed his head immediately in apology and he snared her and pressed a tentative but very sincere kiss on her lips. "I forgive you," he teased her hoarsely. She pouted at him with a smile in her eyes.

"So demanding…" she sighed. He winced and achingly levered himself up to a very sore sitting position.

"I was wondered when you two lovebirds would wake!" a loud voice boomed and they looked up to see Stoick glancing across them from his seat by the fire where he was drinking a mug of mead and doing his morning whittling. As one, they both pulled the furs right up to their necks and flushed scarlet. The Chief burst out laughing. "Young love," he teased loudly. "Not that I haven't seen it all before, Hiccup…" The boy flushed even more red and stared in embarrassment at his lap.

"Dad…" he moaned, wanting the floor to swallow him up. "And you haven't seen Astrid…"

"Well…"

"DAD!" Hiccup thought his face would literally burst into flames. Stoick started chuckling.

"You know, it's actually fun to embarrass you once in a while," he said cheerfully and Hiccup face-palmed loudly.

"Dad…" he rasped, his voice giving out again. Stoick raised his hands.

"Okay, okay," he said, still laughing. "I'll leave you to get dressed. And Astrid-don't forget his poultice needs changing."

"No, sir…Stoick," she said respectfully, still behind the blanket. He rose, nodded and walked out to attend to his duties. Hiccup gave a huge sigh of relief.

"Sorry," he whispered. Astrid gently rested a hand on his shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze, then got up and began to get dressed. She watched him remain stiff in embarrassment as she fixed her clothes and then went to the fire, putting water on to boil and then watching him achingly slide his legs over the side of bed. "Astrid…we need to find a way of getting the Screaming Death to follow us to Outcast Island…" She frowned and starting working warm water into the fresh poultice.

"Dragon Nip?" she suggested, her strong fingers working the poultice to a dough like consistency. He slowly shook his head.

"Not strong enough," he sighed. "I think we'll need Dragon Root." She stared at him.

"But…none of our dragons can get near without going mad," she protested. Hiccup managed a small smile.

"One can: Meatlug," he reminded her. "Her all-rock diet seems to make her immune." Astrid gave a small frown.

"Hmm. Can't see Fishlegs being very keen on that," she admitted, walking forward to gently peel the old poultice from his throat. She gently raised a clean rag and washed the wound, nodding in satisfaction that the burn remained clean. Hiccup stared passively forward as she gently applied the fresh, warm poultice and hissed slightly. Her azure eyes flicked up as she secured the poultice using a clean bandage. He gave a weary smile.

"Thanks," he sighed. "No, he won't be keen but he's the only option. I'll check with him to see if we can find one. There was one in Mildew's field…I'm sure we can work out where we can dig up another…"

"Hiccup! HICCUP!" The door slammed open and the boy stiffened in shock and fear as Snotlout erupted into the room, panting. "I…need to speak…to you…" Warily, Hiccup pulled his legs back into the bed and curled them up under him, his eyes remaining on the panting boy.

"Um, why?" he asked carefully. Snotlout calmed his breathing.

"I was on Snotland," he began and Hiccup frowned.

"Do I need to ask? Snotland?" he rasped.

"My personal island," Snotlout said dismissively. "No-I found it…and him…" Hiccup scowled.

"Wanna try making sense?" he whispered.

"No offence but you sound pathetic!" Snotlout told him brashly. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"Snotlout!"

"Oh, hey, Astrid. What're you…" Snotlout began and then he gaped: memory struck him. "Oh, wait-you two are…does this mean you two are…oh gods!" And Snotlout blushed.

"SNOTLOUT! Will you please tell us what you mean!" Astrid snapped, her eyes scanning the house for her axe. He frowned.

"OKAY! I was just enjoying myself on Snotland, enjoying a few stretches, watching Hookfang set things on fire…when I found the really cool wreck," Snotlout reported. "It wasn't there when I was last there so it belongs to me. I went to have a look when the ground began to shake and suddenly…I was knocked out. It was the Screaming Death." Hiccup stared over at Astrid and saw the same suspicion in her eyes as his.

"Erm, Snotlout-where is 'Snotland'?" Hiccup asked hoarsely. Snotlout looked shifty.

"Well, it's mine so it's a secret so I…"

"It's Short Pine Island, isn't it?" Astrid asked brusquely, having found her axe. Snotlout's eyes widened.

"Okay, FINE!" he huffed. "How did you know?"

"We met the Screaming Death there on our travels," she told him, watching Hiccup's expression. The boy was frowning.

"Why are you alive, Snotlout?" he asked directly. His cousin folded his arms and looked belligerent.

"I was rescued," he sulked. "And the person who rescued me wants to talk to you, cuz."

"Who is it?" Hiccup's voice was suspicious.

"Uh-huh. Can't tell you. You need to see him."

"No." Hiccup's voice was flat. The skinny boy folded his arms and scowled. "Look-he's clearly an enemy because you won't tell me who it is. And I am not going to see anyone who is an enemy. I won't put myself at risk again like that…especially now." Though his face was hard, his hands were trembling. Astrid quietly walked to his side and rested a hand on his shoulder. He quietly raised a hand and tightened it round hers. Snotlout frowned.

"He wants to offer help in beating Dagur," he insisted. "Look, cuz-he insists on speaking only to you." Hiccup shook his head.

"If I see anyone, it is with Toothless and Astrid," he said quietly.

"You have to come with me, cuz," Snotlout said quietly. "Look, I asked the Chief to make you the Heir because you are brave and you will do the right thing. You're smarter than me, Hiccup. You see plans where I only want to blow stuff up. You give people a second and third and sometimes fourth chance. And you always see the way to win. But in this, even I can see this is something that has to be done. And when you come, you'll see this too. Please, cuz-trust me!"

Hiccup swallowed and stared at his cousin. He had never heard Snotlout admit Hiccup was better at him than anything-even when it was patently obvious. This had to be something that Snotlout was completely convinced about. He felt a chill run down his spine and stared at the floor, his green eyes darkening in fear. He knew what he needed to do…but he was afraid. What he should do…would put him entirely at the mercy of his cousin. He swallowed again and winced as his throat hurt. He closed his eyes.

"Okay, Snotlout," he said quietly. "Take me to him."

oOo

Astrid didn't want him to go and had argued fiercely with Hiccup but the battered boy had simply grasped her hand and kissed her tenderly. "I have to do this," he had rasped.

"But Hiccup…" she began. He sighed and scooched over to the clothes they had taken off him when he returned, snatching something. "I can't let you go, can't lose you…" He turned back to her and sighed.

"Whatever you say, Milady," he murmured. Her hand dropped to brush his and she felt cloth. She peered down-to see a ragged tunic clutched in his hands. She frowned and pulled it free-to see the tunic she and Stoick had made for the boy. She frowned as she opened it out, wincing as she saw the back had literally been shredded by a ferocious whipping. She lifted her eyes questioningly.

"When I saw Dad and Toothless go down, I kinda lost it," he admitted in an embarrassed tone, rubbing the back of his neck as he usually did when he was feeling really awkward. "I...er...attacked Dagur. Broke his nose. Almost clawed his eyes out. Had him down. But he had men and they dragged me away. And then...they whipped me until I passed out."

"Oh, Hiccup," she sighed. He gently took the tunic from her.

"I kept it, even though it was shredded, because you and dad made it. It was the last thing I had of him. It may have been the last thing I had of you."

"I am here," she reassured him. And then she hugged him tight. "You're far stronger than any of us. I couldn't have survived Outcast Island. None of the others, either. But you did...twice. No matter how horribly and cruelly they treated you. Gods, I was so scared that I had lost you. So I can't risk losing you again." She slid something into his hand and he looked down on his ring. He swallowed and slid it onto his left hand again, then slid his hands into her hair and forced her to look deep into his eyes.

"You won't lose me," he assured her hoarsely. "And I know how you can make sure I'm safe." Snotlout stared at him.

"Are you coming or not, cuz?" he asked suspiciously. Hiccup gave a small, knowing smile.

"Yeah," he said quietly, "but on my terms…"

oOo

Hookfang swooped low over the rocky outcrop that was the only real hill on the former Short Pine Island and circled once, then landed hard on the shattered beach. There was a huge tunnel heading down from the ragged hole in the beach and Snotlout cheerfully described how he had been mere inches from the dragon as it had exploded through the ground. Hiccup felt his grip on Snotlout tighten.

"Where is he?" he asked hoarsely. Astrid had carefully dressed him in a new green tunic, fresh leggings and a warm cloak with a scarf wrapped around his damaged neck. He wore his Gronckle iron shield painfully across his back and a sword on his hip. Snotlout landed boldly in the centre of the beach and leapt off, looking around.

"I've brought him. Just like you asked!" he announced. Hiccup felt his body tense as he saw a huge, bulky shape with a familiar helmet and enormous beard round the outcrop. Hiccup tried to calm his breathing because he had called it right. He fixed his eyes on the shape.

"Hi, Alvin," he rasped. The former Outcast leader stared at him and his scarred face twisted into a sneering laugh.

"'Ello, "iccup," he replied. "Yer ain't lookin' too frisky. I 'eard Dagur 'ad reserved some special treatment for yer when yer visited!"

"Why are you here, Alvin?" Hiccup said hoarsely, his battered face wary. He was grasping Hookfang's horns because he trusted the dragon more than his cousin to protect him. Alvin took a couple of large paces forward.

"I was thinkin' of askin' for yer help to get me tribe back, 'Iccup," Alvin said menacingly, 'but lookin' at yer, I think I should just hand yer back to Dagur and I'm sure 'e'll forgive me and 'and me Tribe back!" Hiccup narrowed his eyes.

"I think he prefers Savage," he said sarcastically. "Sure, he's stupider even than you, Al-but he doesn't have a spine either. Dagur doesn't want a rival Chief-he wants a number two! He'll never accept you back-and we both know it." Alvin narrowed his cruel dark eyes and inspected the battered, skinny shape seated on the dragon.

"Maybe yer right, 'Iccup," he admitted gruffly. "So I need yer 'elp." Hiccup inspected him closely, his green gaze carefully reading the man's face. One thing he could rely on was Alvin being treacherous. It was his nature-and he had long ago learned to use creatures' intrinsic natures to his advantage. Expecting Alvin to be anything other than he was wouldn't work.

"And what's in it for me?" he asked bluntly. "I mean, I already have a plan to defeat Dagur so why do I need you? Won't Berk be safer with the Outcasts under a new leader…one who will be subject to Berkian Treaty?"

"I'll sign any Treaty yer wants!" Alvin said slightly desperately. "I wants me Tribe back. They're MINE. I want Dagur to suffer fer what 'e did to me. And I know yer wants yer revenge on 'im." Hiccup paused and seemed to think about it.

"I want revenge on you as well," he said quietly. Alvin stared-and then laughed at him.

"'Iccup…yer don't 'ate me," he scoffed. Hiccup stiffened.

"Pretty sure I do," he said tonelessly. "You kidnapped me, you tried to kill me numerous times, you locked me up in Outcast Island, tortured me and threatened me with Toothless's death and with my execution."

"While Dagur framed yer, got yer Outcast, tortured and enslaved yer and beat and raped yer," Alvin sneered. Hiccup stiffened.

"Didn't say I didn't hate him as well," he said quietly. "Can't see what you have to offer."

Alvin stepped closer and his scarred face looked more desperate. "I knows Outcast island better than anyone!" he said urgently. "Whatever yer are planning-I can 'elp!" Hiccup felt a twinge of satisfaction at the man's anxiety. "I can get yer in. I can make sure Dagur is defeated! Me man Mildew were under orders to make sure yer didn't die. 'E saved yer life! Yer owes me!"

"What do you think?" Hiccup asked. And behind Alvin, flapping from behind the Outcrop, Astrid appeared on Stormfly and Stoick hovered in on Toothless, having silently arrived as soon as Alvin made himself known. Alvin turned in shock and then stabbed an accusing finger at Snotlout.

"And I saved yer life, Snotlout! Yer should've done as I asked!" The boy shrugged unrepentantly.

"He's my cousin and he wanted it this way," he said easily. "And for the record-I don't trust you either!" Alvin threw his hands up.

"I see yer 'aven't taught the younger generation any respect for their betters!" he grumbled at Stoick. The Chief tightened his fist.

"My son and Heir is running this meeting, Alvin," he said in a low growl. "I did not approve of this meeting-you know the history we have and the fact that I know you cannot be trusted-but he guessed you were Snotlout's new friend. We never found your body and you are a powerful warrior and survivor. He guessed you would bide your time. Snotlout admitted it was you when Hiccup called me." He looked towards his son. "So, son?"

Hiccup swallowed painfully: he was exhausted, still badly wounded and suffering all sorts of physical and psychological after-effects of his ordeals on Outcast Island. Facing Alvin was straining his resilience to the limits and he had only agreed when he had worked out a way for Astrid and Toothless to attend. His thumb slid over his ring and he felt his heartbeat slowed everso slightly. "I'm still not sure what Alvin has to offer above what we have…" he said thoughtfully. Alvin lurched forward.

"I knows the secret way inter Outcast Island!" he blurted urgently. "And with me man on the inside, we can get yer all in…for whatever plan yer 'ave, 'Iccup…"

"And you will sign a Treaty with us before we set out on the mission," Hiccup told him sternly. "If you become the Outcast Chief again, you will swear never to attack Berk or me or my friends or ally against us. If you don't, you'll probably be dead. Deal?" Alvin stared up at Stoick and made a mute appeal but the Hooligan Chief gave a pitying grin.

"My son has a plan and I have agreed to go with it," he said scornfully. "Decide, Alvin. You agree to Hiccup's terms…or we leave and we will end Dagur without you!"

"I AGREE!" Alvin shouted urgently. "Okay…I agree, 'Iccup." The boy gave a pained smile and nodded to the others to land.

"Okay," he sighed. "Now we all go back to Berk. I'll explain the plan when we get there…"


	43. Return to Outcast Island

Predictably, Stoick had hated the plan. He had argued hard against allowing Hiccup to go anywhere near Outcast Island again, fearing for his son's sanity as much as his safety. But Hiccup was as stubborn has his father and he had insisted, reminding the Chief that he would be with Toothless, Astrid and Stoick himself. The fact that they were sneaking onto Outcast Island with Alvin the Treacherous hadn't elicited any trust on the part of his father and Hiccup, exasperated, had demanded to know what was the deal between the two men.

Stoick had shut him down immediately, shouting Hiccup down as he hadn't since before he had slain the Red Death. He hadn't noticed the boy had stiffened in fear, hadn't seen the flash of terror in the green eyes or observed the way the boy had curled on himself to protect himself against any violence...but Astrid had. And so had Alvin. The Chief had stormed out leaving the boy with Astrid, Snotlout and the former Outcast Chief. Alvin by rights should be in jail but the agreement had been that Spitelout and Snotlout would act as his hosts and though no one was happy with this-Alvin had really wanted to stay close to Hiccup in the hope of picking up some more dragon training tips-it had been reluctantly passed by the Council of Elders.

"I see yer Dad ain't changed, 'Iccup," Alvin mused gruffly, never taking his eyes from the unsettled boy. Hiccup warily looked up into the astute gaze.

"Pretty much who he has always been," he sighed.

"And yer relationship ain't the best, if yer don't mind me sayin'," Alvin added.

"It's fine," Hiccup said defensively. Alvin tutted.

"'Ow can yer expect me ter bare me 'eart ter you if yer won't do me the same favour?" Alvin asked him slyly.

"It won't work, Al," Hiccup told him tiredly. "I need to know what's between you and Dad...or the deal is off."

"Yer can't go changin' the terms of the deal now, boy!" Alvin protested.

"Watch me!" Hiccup told him in no uncertain terms. "I am the leader of the dragon riders and the Heir and next Chief of Berk! If I suspect there is something going on that may compromise the mission, I won't have you on it. And that will void any hope you have of us helping you get your Tribe back...Al."

Alvin stared in shock. In truth, He had assumed that the thin, beaten and injured boy who was clearly really badly struggling after his ordeals on Outcast Island, would be easy to manipulate. Yet Hiccup remained as stubborn, sharp and inventive as ever. The big Outcast sensed there was now a harder edge to the boy...just enough to counter any weakness Alvin may have hoped from his captivity. The outcast sighed.

"Yer Dad and me was mates when we were young...like you and Snotlout," Alvin said easily. "'E were the Chief's son and I were just a commoner. But we disagreed about 'ow things should be done. One day, during a Monstrous Nightmare Raid, I disagreed with yer Dad's orders. So I disobeyed 'em. But there was casualties..." Hiccup, Astrid and Snotlout stared at the big man. They could all tell from his tone that casualties meant fatalities. Hiccup narrowed his eyes: the man's tone was flat, missing its usual overlay of forced geniality. Alvin was telling the truth...for once. He gave a big sigh.

"Things was never the same after that," Alvin admitted. "When Stoick became Chief, it were only a matter of time before 'e banished me." Hiccup sighed. He could understand his father's reticence: he knew Alvin wouldn't obey orders during the mission. Would he banish Snotlout if he did the same as Alvin? He stole a small look at his cousin. He suspected Snotlout would have the insight to admit some responsibility and try to do better...not that he expected Snotlout to ever own up to him. But Snotlout had been surprisingly supportive to him since his exile and the smaller boy had been touched by his confidence in him.

"And that's why you've been waging war on us ever since?" Hiccup asked him pointedly. "You disobeyed an order and caused people to die. You were banished for a similar offence...and yet somehow it's Berk's fault, not yours?" Alvin glared at him and his fists clenched. Hiccup paled but faced him steadily, breathing hard. He had Astrid at his side and her hand found his in response to the stiffening of his body at the threat. The Outcast noted something else as well-the gleam on each hand. He frowned.

"Yer married?" he gasped. Hiccup smiled thinly.

"Not your business, Al," he said. "You were on the same invite list as Dagur, Savage and the Screaming Death!"

"That 'urts me, 'Iccup," Alvin said in that grating, wounded voice that put Hiccup's teeth on edge. "After all we've been through. When 'ave I ever tried to..."

"Al-if you say another word, I will let Toothless eat you," the boy said, his eyes glittering coldly. The Outcast sighed. Hiccup was being far more tolerant than Alvin deserved and he knew not to push his luck any further. The boy nodded to Snotlout. "Will you be okay with him?" he asked his cousin. Snotlout smiled brashly.

"Hookie will keep an eye out for me," he said cheerfully and the two started down the steps from the Great Hall to the Jorgenson house. Hiccup turned to Astrid.

"Are you okay?" he asked her gently. She squeezed his hand, her eyes suddenly sad.

"No problem," she sighed as they began to walk slowly towards the Chief's house. The whispered hisses of whore and slut were still painfully audible as they achingly walked down. Hiccup gave a small, brave smile.

"I've gotten used to it," he sighed. She stopped and he turned to stare at her.

"Those are for me!" she told him blandly. He stared and then swung his fierce forest green gaze over the villagers. He knew they had made up their minds and wouldn't pay any attention to anything he said. So he grabbed her face in his hands and deliberately pressed a long and sensuous kiss on her lips. Then he grabbed her hand and walked silently down the steps. She could tell from the tremble in his hand he was upset.

"They have no right..." he growled and she suddenly burst out laughing. He stared at her.

"You know, I was saying exactly the same thing when they were insulting you!" she sniggered. "It made my blood boil!" He stared at the ground.

"At least with me, something had happened," he sighed. "Not that I wanted it or enjoyed it being thrown back at me every two minutes but there was something there. With you...nothing had happened. Or has, even now." He sighed. "Chalk that up as another area I'm Useless in..." She stopped him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His hands cautiously slid to her waist.

"Hiccup...I told you I loved you and I do," she sighed. "You married me for incredibly honourable reasons and I can never thank you enough for that. And if...one day...you feel ready and w-want to...you know...I wouldn't want to with anyone else..." He rested his forehead against hers and kissed her very softly.

"You know, I will never deserve you, never be good enough for you," he whispered. "But somehow, after being framed for attempted murder and treason, exiled to Outcast Island and tortured and ruined by Dagur, I still end up home, married to the girl of my dreams. Please don't wake me up if this is a dream because I would die happy now." She kissed him back.

"That's really sweet," she told him. "But this isn't a dream and your poultice needs changing again."

"Oh, joy," he sighed and let her lead him home.

oOo

The team searched for half a day before finding what they needed: a large Dragon Root, not far from the other in Mildew's poorly tended and very inhospitable cabbage field. Meatlug had docilely dug it up and the dragon and Fishlegs had taken the Root straight to Gothi's, earning them amazing amounts of disapprobation for driving her already troublesome Terrible Terrors to set not only her decking but her roof on fire as they fought tooth and claw over the Root.

Hiccup met up with the rest of the team in the Great Hall. The Fleet had already sailed under Spitelout and Gobber, tacking fast and direct for Outcast island as the boy stared at his team.

"Fishlegs has gone with the Dragon Root to lure the Screaming Death," he told the team. "The Fleet will engage Dagur's Armada in port and destroy as much as it can. Astrid, Dad, Alvin and I will sneak into Outcast Island while the rest of you launch a full frontal assault assault to cover the fleet. We will attack from behind…and between us, we should capture and defeat him. As soon as the Screaming Death turns up, Dagur will have nowhere to go and will surrender."

"Er, 'Iccup-what if we've already defeated Dagur by the time the Screamin' Death arrives?" Alvin asked with a scowl. Hiccup gave a grin.

"Then I have a plan," he said calmly. "But you have to let me lead this, Al. You interfere and it will probably tear Outcast Island apart-literally!"

"It's true," Astrid confirmed. "It's destroyed a heap of islands...Sundew, Thor's Rock, Half Moon...and it almost took out Dragon Island before all the dragons combined to defeat it!"

"Very interesting..." Alvin growled with a calculating look on his face.

"Alvin-not gonna happen," Hiccup told him sternly. The big Outcast gave a yellow grin.

"'Iccup, yer wound me!" he protested lightly, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around the boy's skinny shoulders. There was a sudden silence and Hiccup went rigid. Astrid stared at him with wide, worried blue eyes: his face was bloodless and his eyes dark with absolute fear. He was hyperventilating.

"Remove. Your. Hands," he said through gritted teeth. Alvin inspected him and his grin broadened.

"So the rumours were true!" he realised. Hiccup pulled away violently and stumbled back a handful of paces.

"Touch me again and I'll have Toothless kill you!" he said tonelessly.

"Then 'ow am I gonna 'old onter you on the flight?" Alvin asked him pointedly. Hiccup gave a thin smile.

"I'll be with Toothless so he can throw you off and incinerate you if you try anything!" he reminded the Outcast. Alvin raised his hands in surrender.

"Alright, boy!" he snapped. "I ain't gonna risk not gettin' me tribe back and me revenge on Dagur." Stoick came to stand by his son and almost laid a hand on his shoulder but stopped himself. Hiccup sighed.

"Son?"

"Dad-it's okay for you. Just not an enemy who's imprisoned and hurt me in the past," he remind his father, relaxing a fraction as Stoick's huge paw curled around his skinny shoulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Hiccup nodded.

"I think I have to do this," he admitted. "You'll be there, Dad. And Astrid. And I'll be on Toothless. He won't let anything happen to me." He offered a wan smile. "Trust me, Dad. I know what I'm doing this time." His father gave him a final squeeze and then stepped away. Hiccup swallowed and faced his team.

"Mount up!" he commanded in his raspy voice. "We head to Outcast Island!"

oOo

The journey to Outcast Island was trying because Hiccup had to fly with Alvin. Not that he had any desire to travel with a man the size of his own father who was treacherous to the core but it was the only option: Alvin couldn't travel with Stoick and Hiccup wouldn't trust him with Astrid. So he was sitting behind the boy, his almost-death grip tight around the slight boy and suffering from newfound vertigo. Toothless kept growling every time Alvin moved or spoke and Hiccup had been stiff with his instinctive need to protect himself. All in all, it had been his worst flight on Toothless.

It hadn't been helped by Alvin continuing to try to engage Hiccup in conversation, chatting to him as if he were an old friend and reminiscing about their previous 'adventures'. It had taken every scrap of the boy's patience to keep his cool and not just ask the Night Fury to ditch the big Outcast in the ocean. "You mind loosening up on that death grip?" Hiccup asked with forced patience. Alvin clutched at him as they swerved a little in a strong gust of wind.

"Sorry. They all tend ter be death grips," the big man muttered. But his grasp loosened a little as Toothless slapped the man with a wing. "Ow, 'Iccup! Yer dragon still don't seem ter like me very much!" Hiccup paused.

"You know what? You're right- he doesn't!" he snapped. "You got him banished, you captured us both and locked him in a cage for days. He could smell the wounds on me after we escaped you finally. If I let him, he would kill you without hesitation." He looked up and saw Astrid mouthing something to him from Stormfly- probably along the lines of 'are you alright?' He shrugged but nodded. He had survived far more than any teen should have to and he knew he was wounded and vulnerable but he was determined to see this through. This was his chance to defeat Dagur and ensure his safety. He leaned forward and Toothless accelerated as the cliffs of Outcast Island rose from the mists in front of them. Hiccup felt his anxiety rise. "Wait, wait-we can't just fly straight over the island. They'll be expecting us!" he said suddenly.

"We ain't flyin' over the island-we're flyin' UNDER!" Alvin growled and his huge hands grabbed Hiccup's shoulders. "Hold yer breath!" Alvin added. The boy went rigid with fear as the Outcast suddenly wrenched him in the saddle and his prosthetic twisted in the tail assembly, collapsing the prosthetic tail fin. Toothless spun sideways as Hiccup began to panic. How the Hel had Alvin worked that out?

But Toothless was fighting to stay in the air, roaring and flapping fiercely. Astrid and Stoick were arrowing towards him as Alvin tightened his grip on the panicking boy. "Moment of truth, boy!" he growled, his beard tickling Hiccup's face. Hiccup was shaking now, his pupils wide with terror. "I thought yer were goin' ter trust me!" The dragon gave a warble, feeling his Rider's fear. Astrid was almost at his side and Hiccup closed his eyes for a long second-then nodded. He looked slightly at Astrid and pointed down, into the grey ocean…and then he nodded.

"Do it, bud!" he shouted. "Just do it!" And they dived into the water, the cold taking his breath. He felt rather than heard the splashes as Stormfly and Thornado followed him but he was trying not to panic as Alvin gestured angrily towards a dark shadow-a passage in the cliffs and Hiccup directed Toothless towards it. The dragon skulled forward rapidly, undulating into a tight passage rapidly. Alvin's grip remained horribly tight as they suddenly rose up and broke surface in a rocky seacave. Hiccup gasped hungrily for air as the Outcast swam away from him, heading for the rocky beach. Hiccup threw his head back to get his sodden hair off his face and gasped as his bandaged throat pulled. He grasped Toothless who readily towed him to the shore as Astrid, Stormfly, Stoick and Thornado all broke surface. Alvin pulled an ugly scowl.

"I see yer made it!" he grumped. "'Urry up! They ain't gonna 'ang around and I think yer fleet attackin' may give the game away!" Stoick peered at Hiccup and Astrid caught his hand, giving it a squeeze. He managed a watery smile, his entire body tense at being back on Outcast Island. Alvin started up a wide passage and then turned to them, his face suddenly confident. "This tunnel will take us right ter the 'eart of the island!" he informed them.

"How do we know the tunnel hasn't already been found by Dagur?" Stoick asked him gruffly. Alvin cast him an unfriendly glance.

"Because I've got a man on the inside who assures me it's clean!" he snapped back. Hiccup gave a weary smile, gently touching his neck.

"Mildew," he said. "He saved my life," he added tot he astonished gazes of the others. "It's okay. He's loyal to Alvin-and hates Dagur. Both Dagur and Savage hate him so he knows Alvin is his best option."

"Son..?" The tone was concerned. Hiccup nodded.

"Dad-I have to do this," he insisted quietly. "And we promised Alvin. Let's go. The others will be depending on us!"

oOo

Fishlegs was still mentally kicking himself for boasting that Meatlug was impervious to Dragon Root as they flew through the seastacks around Short Pine Island (or Snotland) where they had last seen the Screaming Death, the Dragon Root dangling from a rope attached to Meatlug's saddle. A very nervous Fishlegs was sitting in the saddle, peering worriedly around. In his heart he knew he was the only choice for this job but just for once, he wished Meatlug was a little…quicker. He patted her guiltily: she loved him and didn't deserve the thought.

"Here, Screaming Death!" he called unenthusiastically. "Here! Here, Screaming Death! I've got some delicious Dragon Root for you!" And then he paused as the familiar roar echoed through the air and a shadow flew over them. He gave a loud whimper. He recognised the shape.

"Oh dear..." he murmured.


	44. You've wronged me for the last time

When they reached the dragon pens, Alvin greeted Mildew warmly and Stoick scowled at the traitor. Hiccup inspected the miserable old man and inclined his head.

"I see you got nursing duty with the dragons," he commented.

"An interesting turn of events, to say the least," Mildew admitted, flinching as the nearest dragon roared. He thought the only good dragon was a dead one. But he reluctantly tossed a fish through the bars to a hissing Whispering Death. Hiccup, though, quietly walked up to the thin little Nadder he had tended and gently offered her his hand. She gave a little hopeful chirp and raced forward to his gentle caress, his calm voice a reminder of brief days when she had been treated with care not cruelty. She nuzzled him desperately as he opened the pen door and he let her out.

"'ey! That's me dragon!" Alvin growled. Hiccup rubbed her once more.

"It's okay-off you go," he said gently. The dragon gave a worried croon, then ran a few steps and took off, frantically flapping into the dull sky. Methodically, the boy opened the pens and allowed those dragons that could fly to escape. Alvin grumbled but Hiccup had been very insistent. Mildew watched him with a sneering expression: he hated dragons but he knew the chance to care for the beasts had probably saved Hiccup's life. And the Whispering Deaths had proved useful.

Hiccup didn't release all the dragons: the Changewing had hissed at him and spat acid so he had left it alone and he had reluctantly not released the crippled dragons because they could not hope to survive in the wild. He vowed to offer to take them to Berk to live in peace and freedom once Alvin was back in power. Then he finally walked to the pen of the oldest Whispering Death, the female whose cage contained clutches of mottled eggs. Alvin lurched forward and saw the dragon cowering away at the back of the pen. His brows dipped in anger.

"'Ere-what's happened to 'er?" he asked, his eyes noting the scars and paler patches of wounds on her hide. Hiccup slid into the cage and slowly approached her, talking gently.

"Savage," he said grimly. "She's lost her trust of humans because of her treatment. Not that I blame her…" And he stopped before her, his hand outstretched. She pressed her fierce muzzle against his cool hand, giving an unmistakeable croon of pleasure. Alvin's eyes widened in shock.

"Then how…?" he murmured. Astrid stared at him in shock-but it was Mildew who piped up.

"'E realised she was 'urt and 'e showed 'er that 'e understood 'ow she felt!" he revealed. "Lad showed 'er 'is welts and after that, she realised she were just the same as 'im!" Hiccup blushed slightly as he continued to stroke her.

"This is the Screaming Death's mother," he said calmly. "It will tear the island apart to get to her. When it comes, let her go." He sighed. "I know what it's like to miss your mother. I can understand why it wants her back." He glanced over to his father and Stoick saw the yearning in the wide green eyes, the missing piece of the boy's life that he always regretted was absent. Alvin stared at him and nodded once. He could understand the rationale but it meant giving up the dragon and though Alvin wasn't a sentimental man, he had regularly visited and petted the Whispering Death. She had become…special to him and he was saddened to see her abused and skittish. Sometimes, the skill was recognising when to cut your losses.

"So what now?" Astrid asked, moving towards Hiccup. The boy gave a pained smile.

"We wait until all Hel breaks loose…"

oOo

The explosions reverberated through the ground and Hiccup's head snapped round as Toothless vibrated with a growl. Astrid gripped her axe tighter and the boy could hear his father's armour creak as the Chief shifted his body. Hiccup turned to face Alvin and lifted his chin, his bandaged throat visible. "It's time," he said quietly. "I'm trusting you." The big Outcast gave a single nod.

"Yer can rely on me, boy," he growled. "I wants me Tribe back!" He looked at Mildew and the two men retreated to the cages as Hiccup grabbed his sword and shield and headed towards the main part of the village. He knew where Dagur would be waiting and where he would find him. His pace accelerated to a trot and the others ran after him, staying close. He could hear Toothless galloping by him and he felt a shiver of reassurance at the presence of his best friend. No matter that he trusted his father and Astrid, it was Toothless who was his protector, his brother, his soul-mate. And Toothless he had missed and mourned above all. He was scared to death at the prospect of facing Dagur once more but he had to do it: he could only do it because he had his family with him.

Explosions sounded and the twins whooped and screamed overhead as another catapult fell apart and a series of defences caught fire. The men on the rise over the harbour tried firing at them but missed hopelessly. Snotlout blasted through a whole line of defensive positions, all erupting into flames as Hookfang roared through. And the Vikings of Berk stormed up the hill from the docks, slamming into half-hearted resistance from men not enthused by the leadership of Dagur or Savage. Hiccup had heard the mutterings about Savage among the Outcasts-when they weren't beating or abusing him-and that the Berserkers had effectively taken over their island. And the belligerent Outcasts wanted to be in charge of their own destiny.

In the main square, Dagur and his commanders were clustered together, directing the Outcasts and the Berserker troops to meet the invading troops. The Berserkers engaged with their usual enthusiasm but Dagur was puzzled why they were fighting at all. He was still singed and bruised from the encounter with Toothless and the rest of Hiccup's rescuers and he couldn't understand the reason for the attack this time.

"Why are they attacking now?" Dagur whined, chopping fiercely at a Hooligan who was foolish enough to confront him. He could see his Berserkers were still fighting but the Outcasts weren't really putting their hearts into it. "They got my Hiccup back from my arms when I was cutting his slender little throat and…" And then his face creased into a scowl. "Unless he died…and they are attacking for revenge! HA! There was nothing there worth avenging!"

Hiccup caught sight of him and Toothless roared. The Berserker Chief gave a delighted cry.

"Hiccup! You've returned to me! I knew my slave couldn't wait to return to my bed!" The boy gripped his sword tighter and bit back against a small whimper of fear.

"No," Hiccup said, forcing the fear from his voice as Berserkers began to move towards them. "I'm not dead and I'm not here to pander to you. You tried to destroy me, Dagur. You framed me for attempted murder and treason. You enslaved me, brutalised and ruined me. And though you accepted coin for me, you still pursued me all across the Archipelago and falsely claimed I was your slave! You broke your word when you promised to release my father and you tried to kill Stoick the Vast and Toothless. And then you tried to kill me. I'm here to end this, Dagur! You've wronged me for the last time!"

The Berserker turned puce in rage at the firm and indignant tirade and motioned to Vorg, who had his men running at Astrid and Stoick. The clash of weapons and at the roars of the dragons sounded as Hiccup closed on the Berserker Chief, dodging men who swiped at him. His sword was clutched tight in his left hand and his shield was deployed and raised, ready to defend himself. Dagur gave a patronising sneer.

"Oh, Hiccup…you really want to fight me? Don't you remember how that went last time? The lashes cutting into your skin? The blood on your face and body as you were beaten to a pulp? My cock up your ass?"

"Last time we fought-man to man without your armada or men protecting you-I almost tore your throat out and had you defeated!" Hiccup shot back, his knuckles whitening around the sword.

"Yes," Dagur said menacingly, raising his axe. "Well this time, I will defeat your tribe, take your father and…oooh! Your girlfriend? And then they can watch what you've been doing with me all these weeks!" Hiccup took a shuddering breath. "See if she wants you then!"

"Look around!" he called. "Your forces are being routed, your armada is matchwood and our dragons are winning!" Dagur screamed and ran at him and the boy braced himself as the impact of the axe shuddered through the shield and his right arm.

"You will never beat me!" he screamed. "I will have you back, boy-and I will kill your dragon and wear its skull for a helmet and its skin for a cloak…" Hiccup peered up at him and shoved him away.

"You really need some serious fashion tips," he mumbled as he was slammed aside and had to parry a slice at his head with the sword. It skittered away out of his hands with a clang. More Berserkers were pouring up from the docks and he could hear Astrid panting as she fought, the heavy blows of her axe measured. Dagur threw himself at Hiccup but the boy rolled away-clumsily, since he had never been especially agile in battle-and scrambled back, his shield raised. Dagur grinned and twirled his axe, then slammed it at him.

It clanged off another axe, wielded by an expert who pressed herself against the boy. Hiccup felt a sudden surge of relief at Astrid's presence. "You okay, babe?" she asked him breathlessly, never taking her bright blue eyes from the menacing presence of the Berserker. He nodded.

"Um, you?" he asked, flicking his gaze to check she was fine. There was blood spotted in her hair and across her face but it wasn't hers and he felt a tiny flicker of relief at the sight.

"The dragons are guarding our backs," she assured him, "and the Chief is having a little fun…" A Berserker flew by them, slamming to the floor by Dagur. The Berserker Chief narrowed his eyes.

"Come on! Really?" he whined. "Why can't you just fight me already, Hiccup! Or aren't you man enough? Oops! What'm I saying? You aren't a man at all…you're my whore and I…" And then he blinked, seeing the dull gleam of metal on two pairs of hands. He gave a sudden shriek. "HICCUP! Gods! You really are bringing the funny this time! You MARRIED the girl?"

Forest green eyes flicked up defensively and Hiccup cursed himself. Now Dagur would target Astrid to hurt him.

"No-I married him!" Astrid shouted, her face angry.

"Hope you like disappointment-because he's mine!" Dagur screamed. "He's never loved a woman-but he takes cock better than any boy I know! He's my bitch, bitch…but I could see to you as well, if you're getting a little needy…"

"Thor in a thunderstorm, I'll chop his off…" Astrid growled but Hiccup reached out and laid a gentle hand on her arm.

"Focus," he said in a low voice. "Remember…he's Deranged, not you. He wants you to lose your cool!" Then he smiled: he could feel the floor beginning to shudder. "Back-NOW!" he shouted and grabbed her as the floor erupted and a Whispering Death erupted through the plaza. Then another…and another… And hanging to the tail was the huge shape of Alvin the Treacherous who landed and immediately attacked Savage.

"TRAITOR!" he shouted. "Thought yer could replace me, did yer?" Savage backed up: he was vicious and brutal but one-on-one, he was a coward. Alvin slammed him aside and laughed at his former second. The other Outcasts stood back and watched: Alvin had been a great leader-brutal, cruel and short-tempered but always looking to gain advantage for the Outcasts and improve their lot. The Whispering Deaths circled and Toothless gave a shattering roar, sensing the impending disaster and suddenly lunging at Hiccup.

But it was too late as the ground collapsed beneath them and they went tumbling into the depths of Outcast Island.


	45. I am a Viking of Berk

Hiccup screamed as the ground fell away under him, the Whispering Death tunnels collapsing the surface over the deeper tunnels in the volcanic landscape. Dagur, Hiccup, Astrid, Toothless and a handful of Berserkers vanished through the gap and Stoick scrambled backwards as the ground fell away…and then a huge hand grasped his. Alvin was hanging onto the edge of the hole with Mildew anchoring them with his staff. Stoick stared up into the face of his enemy…and allowed himself to be pulled up. He nodded curtly…then spun and blocked a stealthy axe-blow at Alvin's head from Savage. A swing of his hammer laid the treacherous second-in-command out.

"Thanks," Alvin wheezed, blinking. The Chief nodded.

"And you," Stoick replied. "Now let's get these Outcasts and Berserkers under control!"

"Just like the good old days!" Alvin chuckled and the two men ran side by side into the fray.

And at that moment, a huge roar reverberated through the entire island and Hiccup, Astrid and Toothless all shuddered: they recognised that sound. Overhead, Meatlug shot past with Fishlegs audibly screaming "OH THOR! OH THOR! OH THOR!" And he was followed by the Screaming Death.

Hiccup was hanging from a strut of rock, dangling over a long drop. Below him, Toothless was staring up with anxiously glowing eyes and he gave a worried roar. Hiccup felt his arms burning and his hands slipping: he had endured too many hard days recently to be able to pull himself up or hang on for much longer. Astrid was maybe fifteen feet below and off to the side, safely landed on a small outcrop and already looking for a way to climb up to him. Dagur was laughing manically and marshalling his men to attack the Night Fury…and then Toothless batted the nearest man aside and leapt. He was unable to fly without Hiccup working his prosthetic tail but he could leap and climb astonishingly well. He roared to his Viking just as Hiccup's hands slipped and he fell.

"Toothless!"

And then the Night Fury slammed up into him, catching the boy on his back. Automatically, his metal leg snapped into the tail assembly and the prosthetic fin opened as the wings flapped furiously. They hovered, mere feet above the ground, facing Dagur and his men.

"SLAVE! I see you've brought my Night Fury!" the Berserker shouted. Hiccup backed up, hearing a whistle from above.

"He's not yours," he replied as he heard a screech and a familiar blue and gold shape arrowed down, collecting her rider on the way. "He's mine and always will be!" Stormfly and Astrid landed at his side as Toothless touched down and he faced the Berserker once more. He heard Stormfly raise her spines in preparation for attack and Hiccup leaned forward.

"Wrong! You-and everything you own-are MINE!" Dagur roared and leapt at them-but Toothless batted the man away and Hiccup leaned forward, feeling the Night Fury bunch his muscles and leap into the air, flapping up through the long drop towards the surface. He heard Astrid launch-and then scream. Toothless was almost at the surface as he craned his neck-and saw Dagur on board the Deadly Nadder, grappling with Astrid. Stormfly was screeching in alarm but fortunately they were still rising, for the hole was really too small to safely turn around and fly down to help. But as they broke the surface, Toothless threw a tight flip and Hiccup threw himself across at the Berserker. Dagur was shocked as Astrid struggled for control. The Nadder hit the ground and all the passengers rolled. Shaking his head, Hiccup looked up, seeing Astrid lying stunned-and then he started in horror.

oOo

The Screaming Death had heard the cries of the Whispering Deaths and recognised one within as the sound he had been searching for. But at that point, the Berserkers had made the spectacularly unwise decision to attack the giant, white, spiny, red-eyed dragon. Snapped from his good mood, the giant dragon had responded with total aggression, demolishing every catapult and Berserker ship and the outcrop overlooking the harbour where the main defences had been sited. The Outcasts-on Alvin's bellowed orders-had withdrawn and left their Berserker allies to face the stupidity of their decision alone.

Stoick, Spitelout and Gobber had finally reunited as the Outcasts surrendered to the Hooligan Chief in the remains of the village. Alvin watched on, breathing hard and gripping the chained up Savage by the shoulder. This was all part of the deal, the Treaty he had been forced to sign by Hiccup and though he had resented the subjugation of his claim to Stoick, he knew he could not have taken back the Outcasts without the Hooligans. Then Stoick did something totally unexpected: he offered Alvin his hand. Alvin stared in shock.

"Stoick?" he growled.

"There's more than enough blame to go round, Alvin," the Chief said thoughtfully. "But you have kept your part of the bargain. You did everything you said you would." Alvin gave a yellow smile.

"Yeah-'oo would have thought it would come ter this?" he admitted. "Yer boy made this 'appen. Neither of us would've 'ad the reason ter move beyond our past. It took yer little 'Iccup of a son ter see the way forward." Both man paused thoughtfully as the screams of the fleeing Berserkers sounded. Alvin looked up. "I think yer should take their surrender now, Stoick!" And he gasped the other man's hand.

"Let's take the surrender together!" Stoick said.

oOo

Dagur rolled and saw the old Whispering Death female, her scarred and thin flanks heaving with the effort of flying up towards the giant dragon. And he caught the look that the Screaming Death gave her and his deranged brain saw the advantage. He whipped a bola from his belt and threw it with fierce accuracy, bringing the scarred dragon down. Hiccup saw it and his heart almost stopped in horror.

"NO!" he shouted. "What are you doing? If you don't let her go, you'll destroy us all!" Dagur grabbed the stunned Astrid round the neck, a knife-the one that had nearly cut his own throat?-pressed viciously against her swan-like neck and hauled her to the downed dragon. His double headed axe rested against the whimpering Whispering Death as the shattering roar of the Screaming Death shook through them all. Hiccup scrambled to his feet.

"Hello? Deranged?" the Berserker taunted him. "Okay, Hiccup-time for the choice. You can give me the Night Fury and I will free one of them-your choice." Hiccup's forest green eyes met the furious azure gaze of Astrid's as she fought ferociously against the unbreakable grasp. They both knew the correct choice and his heart shuddered in misery at the dilemma. "Or…you could hand yourself and the dragon over to me and I will free both!"

Hiccup stared at him and hatred welled in his heart. He had played this game before, when he had given himself up for his Dad. He knew that Dagur would never keep his word and at least Astrid would be slain even if he handed himself over. He knew Dagur would always do whatever he could to turn Hiccup's life into Hel. He laid his hand on Toothless's muzzle and said quietly:

"Be ready on my mark, bud." He felt rather than heard the tiny croon the dragon gave in response. Then Hiccup looked Dagur straight in the eye. "Promise me you'll let them both go alive!" he said. The Berserker gave a nasty grin.

"You know you can trust me," Dagur sneered.

Hiccup sprinted at him and hit him at chest level, ripping his hand away from Astrid's throat and bearing the Berserker to the ground.

"LIAR!" he shouted and punched the astonished Dagur straight in the nose, breaking it again. Dagur bellowed like a wounded dragon and wrestled at the boy but Hiccup allowed his rage at the other man's treatment of him to churn in his stomach and awaken the blind fury he had only ever felt twice more. He punched again at the man's face, over and over and Dagur bellowed, then threw Hiccup off, rolling over to try to pin the younger Viking, his meaty hands closing tight around Hiccup's bruised neck.

"Did you think you could do this again?" Dagur roared in his face, spittle spraying Hiccup's suffused features and blood dripping from his broken nose. The boy's forest green eyes were wide with fear as the grip tightened around his neck. "Isn't there a little piece of you that craves this, Hiccup? The closeness of our bodies…" And he ground himself over the pinned boy. Hiccup fought against the grip but the terror in his eyes was obvious. "Tell me you didn't love the way you writhed under me? The way you felt as I touched you? The way your body responded when I fucked you?" Hiccup shook, desperately trying to shake him off as Dagur arched over him, the bulge in his pants obvious.

"…n…." he exhaled.

"If you surrender to me, Hiccup," Dagur breathed in his ear, "I will let your girlfriend go. I will even give up on your precious dragon-and the other one. Come back to me and promise to stay with me and I will fuck you every single day of your life…but I will treat you like my consort, my lover, not my slave. Just surrender!" He licked Hiccup's neck. "Come back to Master Dagur…"

Tears slid from the corner of Hiccup's eyes. He could hear Astrid moving from where she had been thrown, the scrape of her axe as she grabbed the weapon, hear the huff of Toothless's breath and he remembered that he wasn't alone. He was never alone. His prosthetic leg slammed up, as hard as he could and Dagur gave a cross between a scream and a groan as Hiccup connected directly between Dagur's legs. The pressure on his neck eased and he was able to shove Dagur away, rolling sideway and coughing hoarsely, sucking in air desperately. Dagur screamed and writhed, clutching his abused assets.

"I'll make you scream for that, bitch!" he howled through his pain, his eyes locking on the hacking Hiccup. He rolled to his hands and knees abruptly, lunging for the struggling boy.

"…t-toothless…" Hiccup breathed.

Then Astrid hit the Berserker full in the head with the flat of her axe and slammed him, stunned, away from the coughing Hiccup. She stood tall between the enemy and her husband, her eyes flashing with anger and the thin red line of the dagger-slice visible against the white skin of her neck. Dagur stirred, his arms reaching for a weapon, but a huge black paw slammed him down, claws prickling against the neck. Dagur grinned insanely. "So you want to fight me, Night Fury?" he laughed. "Then let us have this out, man to dragon…"

"No." Hiccup's voice was barely a rasp but his grip was firm as he dug Astrid's axe hard into Dagur's neck. Toothless slammed a second paw down on the arm questing for a weapon and his mouth began to glow with plasma. Dagur suddenly widened his eyes as two huge shapes appeared behind the two teens. Stoick and Alvin had their weapons raised as they glared at the Berserker Chief. The pinned man lay still.

"We can work this out, can't we…brother?" he pleaded, suddenly seeing himself without a way out. "Hiccup-you know I love and treasure you. I will make love to you for…"

"No," Hiccup repeated. "I am not a slave. I am not a thing. I am not a possession. I am not your toy or your lover or your friend. I am not your brother. I am a Viking of Berk, the son of Stoick the Vast, Rider of Toothless the Night Fury and the Heir to the Throne of Berk and I declare Blood Feud with you. Surrender or I will kill you."

For a long moment, Dagur stared up into the cold forest green eyes and saw no hesitation, no fear, no surrender…and then he pouted.

"I give in," he said sulkily as Alvin lurched forward, grabbing the man's arms and dragging him up. Stoick helped the Outcast chain him tightly. Dagur swivelled his eyes at the Outcast Leader who had the most unpleasant and menacing expression Hiccup had ever seen.

"I'll keep 'im safe," Alvin promised. Stoick gave a curt nod and Hiccup stared at them for a long moment. Dagur was insane, deranged and very dangerous: part of him wanted the man safe on Berk but a larger part of him wanted the psychopath nowhere near him ever again. He knew Alvin would treat Dagur harshly but was it any more than he deserved?

"Hiccup? Brother? No…" The plea was pathetic now.

"He is not to be maimed, tortured or killed," he rasped in a hoarse whisper. Stoick stared at him: he was denying Alvin the chance of inflict pretty much every ordeal Hiccup himself had endured on the man who had cost him so much.

"e'll still be punished, 'Iccup," Alvin warned him and the boy nodded with a sigh.

"Do not maim or kill him," he repeated. Then he turned to the Whispering Death which was still hovering by Toothless. The boy walked forward, a thin smile on his white lips and he dipped his head and held his hand out. The scarred dragon eagerly pressed her muzzle into his hand and he caressed the hideous face once more, sighing. He was aware of the looming presence overhead of the Screaming Death and smiled.

"I guess this is goodbye," he said quietly. "I think your son has been waiting for you for a long time." The Whispering Death gave a little roar which Toothless replied to and then she flapped achingly up, flanked by the younger Whispering Deaths to greet her once-in-a-century son. The Screaming Death gently nuzzled his much smaller mother and they both crooned softly.

Hiccup felt a lump thicken his abused throat at witnessing the reunion he could never share. He blinked once and sighed before the Whispering Deaths flew up into the low grey banks of clouds. Snotlout, Fishlegs and the twins had landed behind Astrid, Hiccup and Toothless as the enormous white dragon turned its baleful scarlet glare on them. Hiccup could hear Fishlegs whimpering and the twins both admiringly whispering "Whoaaaaa!" Snotlout leaned forward and Hiccup could hear him breathe:

"We're all here, cuz. They're all defeated. The plan went perfectly…"

Well, except this bit, Hiccup added silently.

The Screaming Death faced them for a long moment, recognising the dragons that opposed him so many times…but which had helped him complete his quest. Hiccup laid his hand on Toothless's head and laced his other with Astrid's. They were on the ground and vulnerable. The scarlet glare bored into the Riders of Berk.

Then the Screaming Death opened his mouth-and ROARED! The blast almost knocked Hiccup off his feet and he could feel Astrid's grip tighten around his in shock. The boy felt his ears would burst and he would be completely crushed by the blast of sound. He turned his head and closed his eyes…and then, abruptly, it stopped. Toothless gave a little growl. Hiccup opened his eyes and saw something he wasn't expecting in them: gratitude.

"Um…you're welcome…" he rasped as the Screaming Death with a flick of his enormously long spiny tail and soared up into the grey sky after his family. Astrid pressed herself against his side and pulled his hand into both of hers.

"You okay?" she murmured.

"I may never hear again," he groaned, shaking his head then managed a wan smile. Toothless gave a relieved croon and he sighed. "Yeah, bud-I thought we were eaten, too." He squeezed Astrid's hand. "But I feel…better…" he admitted. He tilted his head and ghosted a small kiss on her lips.

"Home?" she suggested. He nodded.

"Let's go home to Berk," he said as he mounted his dragon and took off on his best friend, with his wife and his friends at his side.


	46. Epilogue

Several Months Later…

The pair of teens circled high above the harbour of Berk, their dragons lazing on the thermals that rose from the seastacks. Hiccup glanced over to Astrid, who almost felt his gaze and grinned back. The harbour was busy: Trader Johan was in and the fishing vessels had all come back early with bulging nets and the Hooligans were enjoying the unseasonably warm weather and the peace.

The end of the conflict with the Berserkers and the Outcasts had make Berk a far safer place though the process hadn't been easy-or quick. In fact, the Berserkers had been much easier, for Dagur's Uncle, Sigurdar, who had assumed the Chiefdom once the Deranged Berserker had been imprisoned, had no desire to continue his nephew's vendetta. A Treaty had been swiftly agreed and signed. Alvin the Treacherous, however, had been a different matter.

Alvin, despite suing for Hiccup's help in regaining his domain, had proven difficult, sneaky and two-faced…exactly as Stoick and Hiccup had expected. He had made a number of demands regarding dragon training which had all been declined, had been difficult in handing over the managed dragons and he had insisted on conducting the negotiations on Outcast Island. This had been a problem for Hiccup, who had wanted to be part of the negotiating party-both for his own education and because he didn't trust Alvin-as the mere thought of returning to Outcast island had reduced him to a cold sweat. In the end, he had asked Astrid to come with him. And though it had proved a form of torture for the active warrior, she had agreed because she had seen the desperate plea in her husband's scared eyes at having to face all those memories alone. It had proven a good use of her time, because with her there, Hiccup could scrutinise every word Alvin put into the Treaty, heading off a number of sneaky clauses that would disadvantage the Hooligans or which, quite frankly, said the opposite of what had been agreed. After a month of very tough negotiating and triple checking the document, both Chiefs had signed.

Over the winter, Hiccup had healed-not completely, but he had come a very long way. His bruises and welts had healed and his worst hurts had scarred, leaving the boy with a map on his body of the wrongs done to him that would never fade. His confidence had been almost shattered by his ordeals and it had taken him a long time with the help and support of his friends to return to who he had been before: quiet, sarcastic, patient and inventive. But he had managed to regain what he had lost and had become Hiccup once more. He still had to concentrate hard to tolerate people standing behind him and everyone knew not to touch the young Rider without permission. But he had no problems with contact with his father, his dragons-or his wife.

He grinned back at Astrid and jerked his head. They swooped west, round to the cliffs and a series of very secluded and warm little bays and Toothless took them down in one that Hiccup had found shortly after making friends with the Night Fury. There was a wide crescent of white sand, a shallow and warm bay with almost no current and a lovely cave with sandy floor and a fabulous view of the sea. Hiccup and Astrid rapidly unsaddled their dragons and allowed them to leap into the sea, playing and splashing to their heart's content. Astrid strode up the beach beyond the tide line and spread out a large blanket while Hiccup struggled to follow. He was determined in most things but sand and a prosthesis didn't mix well. He gratefully collapsed on the blanket beside her.

Astrid quickly kicked off her boots, stripped off her arm bindings and shed her armour, then lay back on the blanket, loosening her hair from the braid and stretching out luxuriously. Warm weather was rare on Berk and was to be treasured so she had every intention of lazing for the whole afternoon. As she stretched, her toes curled against the blanket and Hiccup smiled at her and thanked Thor that he had her. She had short leggings on, her leather skirt and a sleeveless blue tunic. The sun gleamed off her ring and her face glowed with happiness.

But she was't completely happy-because she remained estranged from her family. Ulf Hofferson would not budge on his stance over his daughter and he would not even look at her. Her brothers and her mother sneaked to speak with her when her father wasn't around-though they had to obey him and shun her when he was. And the extended Hofferson family had blanked her completely. She lifted her chin and refused to be ashamed-for she knew she had done nothing shameful. Her father's stance was ridiculous…but it had brought her marriage to Hiccup, the Heir to Berk and kinship to the Chief. But sometimes, she sat and stared down the hill to her old home and in those times, Hiccup sat by her and held her hand and promised he would love her forever because it was all he owed her for what she had given up for him.

She opened her eyes and stared up at him, leaning back and closing his eyes against the bright sun. The months had wrought changes in him: not just the healing of his wounds but the much delayed growth spurt he was owed. Over the months, he had shot up four inches and how she looked up into his gentle and curious forest green eyes. He had regained the weight on his very skinny frame from his trials-just as he had shot up and he remained very lean and lanky, though his jaw was a little more angular and his features were more definite. His hair had thickened though was no less wild but his bright forest green eyes were still the same-bright, intelligent, filled with love. But sometimes, she saw the shadow there from his torments but as soon as he became aware of her, he always blinked it away. He had suffered horrible growing pains in his stump but had endured bravely, though she had seen tears on his face at times and she had cocooned him in her arms and hugged and rocked him through the torment. Growth for Hiccup had been painful in many ways, but he had emerged stronger than before.

Today, he had shed his usual clothes. She had sewn him two more of the dark red tunics and he treasured her handiwork but he had made himself a woven leather over tunic and belt to wear as well and had taken to wearing leather vambraces. She knew he was horribly self-conscious of his scars-she never saw his back unless she glimpsed him changing or bathing- and he always wore long sleeves to conceal the scar of his slave brand and the word 'SLAVE' carved inside his left arm. Of course, the brand had been obliterated a month after he had returned, at a ceremony where Gobber, Stoick, Gothi and Astrid had burnt away the brand. Gothi had dressed the raw wound as soon as they had finished and Astrid had just held him-but it had been Hiccup's wish to erase the Skrill mark from his flesh once and for all. And only with her, on this discreet and isolated beach, would he wear a loose tunic with elbow-length sleeves and a pair of short leggings that only reached his knees.

She smiled as she glanced over to him. His head was flung back with a slight smile parting his lips, the puckered scar across his throat fading now. His long, dexterous fingers dug into the warm sand and she could see the scar on the back of his left wrist where Dagur had threatened to cut off his hand and the word 'SLAVE' still dull red inside his left arm. But the ring gleamed on his hand and his prosthesis clicked as he fidgeted, the straps around the remains of his left leg visible.

Hiccup had insisted that Dagur be imprisoned, not killed though Alvin had argued very hard for the latter during the Treaty negotiations. Astrid suspected he felt guilt for lying to the Berserker-as his father had demanded-and suspected this may have fuelled the man's hatred and rage for Hiccup. Astrid doubted the boy should take such blame upon himself for a lunatic who had murdered his own father, but this was Hiccup and he would continue being himself. So Dagur remained in Alvin's custody with the Berserkers who had remained loyal to him and Alvin's own treacherous second, Savage. Hiccup had watched Dagur dragged off to the cells, pleading and crying for his 'brother' but had made no noise and given no sign he had heard Dagur's words.

He leaned over and gently planted a kiss on her soft lips and she smiled into the kiss and grabbed his auburn hair, running her fingers through until she met the couple of little braids she had made behind his right ear. His hair tended to point in all directions and the braids never lay neatly, no matter how many times she redid them-but that never deterred her from trying. He smiled down on her.

"Enjoying yourself, Milady?" he murmured and she smiled.

"Hungry," she admitted. He smiled, sat up and twisted, snaring his saddlebag and dumping it on the blanket. He carefully unpacked their picnic: roast chicken legs, slices of yak pie, cured boar, fresh loaves and yak butter and a pot of soured yak cream, cloudberries and honey and a flask of apple ice wine. Astrid's eyes widened in shock: he had brought a feast. She grinned and grabbed a slice of yak pie, biting hungrily in while he smiled as he watched her and grabbed a chicken leg thoughtfully. He had wanted to make the trip special because he owed her so much. He had warned her to leave him, knowing that she would be ruined for running away after him and every time he saw her unhappy and missing her family, he silently promised he would make it up to her if it took the entirety of his life.

The Elders had confirmed him as Heir because Snotlout had insisted-and his father had been furious. The chance to annoy Spitelout had heartened Hiccup, who had never forgotten the threats the man had made against him when he was beaten, terrified and vulnerable. Hiccup remained who he was, though there was a sightly harder edge under the familiar slightly dorky, calm and cheerful exterior. Astrid had finally taught him to fight over the winter, honing his skills with the sword and that exercise had strengthened his battered body and helped him hold himself with more confidence. Stoick continued training him and never ceased to apologise for not trusting his son: he listened to Hiccup and always considered his input-though he didn't always agree. And Hiccup was relieved and grateful that the Chief was at least treating him with respect. As did nearly all the villagers, save a few stubborn hold-outs, with the Hoffersons the main protagonists. He blinked and sipped his ice wine. There were always some people who would never accept him and he was satisfied that most had forgiven and embraced him once more.

Once they had demolished the feast, he had laid back down on the warm blanket and laced his hands behind his head in the sun. Astrid had leaned over him and pressed a passionate kiss on his lips. Her hair framed her face like a golden halo, her fingers sliding along his jaw then stroking his hair. "What was that for, Milady?" he asked lazily. She leaned forward and kissed his chin, her body moulding against him.

"For making this perfect," she murmured. She nuzzled against his neck. "You wanted this to be perfect, didn't you?" His eyes slowly blinked and he nodded, his look fading from confident to uncertain.

"I was hoping," he murmured, a hand rising to cup her cheek. "I love you, Astrid. You are the most amazing person on Berk…HUMAN PERSON…" he added more loudly in response to an indignant roar from the sea. "Yeah, yeah, I know-useless reptile," he grumbled at the dragon. "And I have been anything but amazing. I have been wounded and needy and frankly pathetic. I have caused you to lose your family and end up married to the runt of the village, the worst viking in the history of Berk…"

"Hmm-I don't know that person," she told him lightly. "The man I married saved the island by destroying a mountain-sized dragon, founding a Dragon Training Academy and fighting off Outcasts and Berserkers; became the Pride of Berk; beat Dagur in unarmed combat and survived being framed and exiled from Berk for a crime he never committed." She smiled into his wary and wounded eyes. "My husband is a truly amazing man and I love him. I wouldn't change him for anything."

He reached up and kissed her desperately, rolling over to stare down into her peaceful face and stroke her face and neck-and then slid his hands down her toned body. He kissed her more desperately and she responded with equal urgency and passion. Here, in the sun and protected by their dragons, he felt far safer than he did back home in Berk. He pulled away, breathing hard. She whined, her face flushed.

"Are you sure?" he asked worriedly. He knew what he felt but did Astrid feel the same about him?

"Shut up and kiss me, dragon boy!" she groaned. He complied and for long moments, their world was contracted to each other, to touch and warmth and rising desire. Then, suddenly, she pushed him up. "I see you even arranged a cave," she whispered huskily and he could barely reply. "I don't trust the twins…" she murmured and he groaned as she grabbed the blanket and began to trot up to the cave. He wearily scrambled to his feet and peered into the other saddlebag at the dozing Fang. The little dragon lazily opened his good eye.

"Watch out for us, boy," he murmured as he walked very unevenly up the sand until he collapsed onto the blanket by her, seeing her already shedding her leather skirt. His eyes widened.

"Like what you see?" she smirked, stretching her toned, slender shape and seeing his face flush. Her eyes lingered on the very visible evidence that he did.

"You know if we do this, you can't divorce me for…" he began, his tone nervous but she pressed a finger to his lips.

"Do you want me to divorce you?" she asked.

"Um, you'd be within your rights because I'm…I've been…so…disappointing…in this department," he muttered, flushing red, though she was gently stroking his face, her fingers trailing lazily down his chest to his waist and back. "Um…no…" he added.

"Hiccup, you have suffered more than anyone with the cruellest hurt anyone could suffer," she murmured, her lips sliding over his neck, feeling the puckered scar from where Dagur had tried to cut his throat. "But I also knew things would happen when the time was right. Just tell me if you feel uncomfortable…" He leaned up to kiss her and whispered:

"I'm never uncomfortable with you, Milady." And then he paused and gave a small smirk. "But my leggings feel way too tight." She gave a small smile and kissed him again…

oOo oOo oOo

Lying naked snuggled together, wrapped in the blanket and staring across at the cloudless blue sky above the white sands and the dragons still playing in the bay, Hiccup tightened his arm around Astrid. In the end, it had been wonderful. Astrid had been as generous and loving and strong as she was in all other aspects of their life together and she…had seemed to be satisfied. He hoped she had been: he had suspected he was probably a disappointment though Hiccup knew he had been utterly mindblown by the experience. Astrid nuzzled her head gently against his chest, her hair brushing over his obliterated brand.

"I guess the divorce is off," she murmured, her lips still smiling. He sighed and his left hand absently combed through her hair.

"Pity," he murmured. "I had my eye on…"

"Do you want me to chop your other leg off?"

"Can't you get exiled for that sort of thing?" he protested.

"Naw-nowhere to send them now we're friends with the Outcasts," she replied smugly.

"I can always ask Alvin for a favour…" Hiccup suggested with a smirk and she wriggled to stare at him and punch him lightly on the shoulder. "OWW!" he whined.

"That's for being exiled and scaring me to death," she said, then kissed him tenderly on the lips. He closed his eyes for a long moment. "And that's for saving me and Berk and marrying me and…everything else…"

"You know," he murmured. "This makes all the rest of it worth it…" For a second it all flowed back: the fear, the pain, the utter shame, the despair and the isolation...but Astrid was here now and he knew...he knew he was safe with Astrid. He was safe. He had survived. She snuggled against him with a smile.

"I love you," she whispered. He stroked her hair again with his left hand, seeing the scars on his skin that would never wholly fade and the engraved gold ring on his finger that he would never relinquish again.

"I love you too…my heart, my life, my Astrid."

The End.


End file.
